Harry Potter and the Black Butler
by Amaterasu1969
Summary: Half the Order of the Phoenix is dead and only Harry Potter can defeat the Dark Lord. But he can't do it on his own. Luckily, he has Ron, Hermione and...Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis?
1. That Butler, Meetings

**Summary: the war against Voldemort is worsening. Half the Order of the Phoenix is dead, and only Harry Potter can defeat the dreaded Dark Lord. But he can't do it on his own. Luckily, he has Ron, Hermione and...Ciel Phantomhive? What on earth could possibly happen to Harry with two demons helping them in the fight? A lot, apparently.**

**Note: this is mostly based on the manga. The only part of the anime I got was the part where Ciel is a demon. I don't own Kuroshituji or Harry Potter, kay? These belong to Yana Toboso (bless her) and JKR, respectively. **

**I**

**That Butler, Meetings**

**...**

"Run, Ron!" Harry screamed. "And take Hermione with you!" The sixteen year old wizard's voice echoed in the dark, empty alleyway.

Ron, whose shirt was torn in several places and his flaming hair in a mess, glared at his friend. "We're not leaving you here, Harry," he huffed. He held his wand at his side. There was a large bruise on his cheek.

Hermione nodded her head of bushy hair in agreement. There was a shallow gash on her forehead and blood oozed from the cut and down her cheek. "If you're going to fight them, we're fighting them together."

Harry glared at them and glanced down the alleyway. No sign of the Death Eaters—yet. His heart was beating fast. "This isn't your fight," he stated. He pointed down the alleyway with his own wand. "Get out of here before they arrive!"

They gave him stubborn looks. He wanted to scream at them, to tell them to run. This mess was his entire fault. If he had just listened to what Dumbledore had said...

"It isn't your faults we're separated from Lupin and the others!" Harry panted. "You don't need to pay for my mistakes!"

Ron raised an eyebrow at him. "This is what best friends do, Harry," he pointed out.

Hermione nodded in agreement. "Sticking together through thick and thin."

Harry's hand clenched tightly around his wand. He felt like hitting them. Why did they have to be so stubborn at such a crucial moment? But despite these thoughts, he felt a warm glow. "Thanks."

"They went through here!"

Fear shot through the trio as a rough voice cut through the alleyway. "It's them," Hermione whispered as the footsteps grew louder.

"On three," Harry whispered. "We disarm them."

Ron nodded, biting his lower lip. The footsteps drew closer.

"One..."

Closer...

"Two..."

Louder...

"THREE!"

"_EXPELLIARMUS!_"

The moment the two Death Eaters entered the Alleway, the force of the combined spell knocked them off their feet and sent their wands flying through the air, falling to the cold cement with a dull, wooden clatter.

"_Accio_ wands!" Hermione shouted. The fallen wands immediately darted to her open hand.

The two Death Eaters scrambled to their feet, but before either of them could react, Harry and Ron both raised their wands. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" The two Death Eaters suddenly went rigid, their arms and legs snapping together as they dropped to the ground.

Harry let out a breath. "Are you two all—"

But before Harry could finish, something bright and hot rammed into the ground just in front of them, sending the trio flying backwards with a loud bang. Harry shouted as he flew through the air, shielding his face from the debris and rubble that rained down on him. A moment later, his eyes widened in pain as he felt his back come into contact with the hard brick wall behind them. He fell to the floor, groaning as pain shot through him.

He looked up, his vision swimming, his head reeling. _Wand!_ he thought instinctively. His vision doubled as he hunted for his wand among the debris. Smoke filled his nose as he felt the smooth wood of his wand beneath his fingertips.

"Poor little baby Potter."

Harry froze. He looked up at the entrance to the alley, but he could only make out hazy shapes amid the smoke. Shakily, he stood up and automatically glanced around for Ron or Hermione.

"Where are all your guards, little Potter?" Bellatrix Lestrange's baby voice echoed throughout the alleyway.

The darkness of the night and the smoke helped to conceal him from Bellatrix, but not for long. He was sorely tempted to conjure a light, but this would only bring unwanted attention. He would have to search for Ron and Hermione in the dark.

He squinted and waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. "Little Harry! Come out, come out wherever you are!" He could hear Bellatrix and several other Death Eaters scouring the darkened smoky alley searching for him. They, too, probably didn't want Harry to know where they were with a light.

"You don't want me to come and get you, do you?" Bellatrix crooned, to which several Death Eaters sniggered.

Harry felt his heart hammering. Bellatrix was quite capable of capturing him _now_. Harry realized that she was playing with her prey. Amid the smoky darkness, he made out an inert form lying close to the wall.

"Hermione?" he whispered, recognizing the mane of bushy brown hair. He quickly knelt down beside her. "Hermione?" he whispered again, brushing a hand through her hair. He felt something wet and sticky. His heart stopped and he drew his hand. In the faint light of the moon, he could make out the scarlet fluid on his fingers. Blood. He looked down at the ground—the blood was spreading.

"No," Harry whispered. His fingers flew to her neck, searching for a pulse. Thankfully, there was one. He parted her hair and placed his wand just above her head. "_Episkey_," he whispered. The blood immediately stopped flowing.

A hand suddenly clamped down on his mouth, and his eyes widened in shock. He was about to react when Ron's voice reached his ears. "It's me, Harry!" Ron said as Hermione groaned.

"Aha! Found you, little Potty!"

Ron's eyes widened in shock as he pulled his hand from Harry's mouth. He cursed as the sound of the Death Eater's feet thundered towards them.

"Grab Hermione!" Harry whispered as he stood up and faced the sound of the Death Eaters' approaching footsteps. "And run."

"No way, mate!" Ron snapped as he, too, turned to face the approaching Death Eaters.

"Ron's...right," Hermione's strangled voice reached their ears. Harry could hear her feeble attempts to stand. "We're...fighting them...together." The young witch gasped as she stood and leaned against Harry's arm for support.

Harry inwardly sighed. He knew it would be pointless to make them change their minds. "The both of you are idiots, did you know?" he whispered.

The Death Eaters suddenly burst through the thick veil of smoke, Bellatrix at their lead. She grinned at them. "Found you!"

"We're idiots," Ron agreed as he gripped his wand tighter. "But we're your idiots, mate."

"Aw...how sweet you are!" Bellatrix said, leering at them. "Unfortunately, boy, loyalty can only be rewarding as long as you're on the right side!"

The five Death Eaters raised their wands. "_CRUCIO!_"

"_PROTEGO!"_

Though the shield charm was combined, it easily shattered under the four blasts of the Unforgivable Curse sent by the Death Eaters. Harry, Ron and Hermione were thrown backward as the blast knocked them off their feet. Harry felt himself hit the hard ground, felt himself rolling away and hitting the wall again.

He let out a small groan as he quickly stood up. "_Crucio!_" Bellatrix shrieked.

Harry could not stop the scream that escaped from him. He fell to the floor, his wand rolling away from him. A second later, he heard two other screams and despite the pain that racked him, his blood went cold. _Ron and Hermione..._

The pain suddenly left him and he panted. A second later, Ron and Hermione stopped screaming. They were only several feet away from him, their wands nowhere to be seen.

Bellatrix crouched down in front of him, her face screwed into a mock-sympathy look. "Poor little baby Potter," she crooned. She gripped him by the hair and tilted his head so he could look into her eyes. "No one is coming for you, boy. The other members of the Order have their hands full at the moment, with the trap we sprang for them." She smirked.

"What do we do with the others?" A raspy voice asked. Harry's heart stopped. He knew that voice. He glanced sideways, and his eyes saw the massive silhouette of none other than Fenrir Greyback, who had Ron—too paralyzed with fear to make a noise—by the scruff of his neck, holding him close to his face.

Harry saw Ron squirm and he began to struggle from Bellatrix's hold. He had to save them. This was all his fault...

"Hm..." Bellatrix said thoughtfully. She watched as another Death Eater approached Hermione and waved his wand over her. Her limp form began to hover in mid-air.

"We could burn them," the Death Eater suggested.

"And the smell?" Bellatrix snapped, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"Or leave them to me," Greyback said, baring his sharp teeth at Ron, who struggled all the more.

Bellatrix smirked. She waved her wand over Harry and he felt himself rising till he hovered in the air, facing Ron and Greyback, Hermione and the Death Eater who had her. "Fortunately for you, little baby Harry," Bellatrix went on, in that baby voice Harry came to loathe. "The Dark Lord wants you alive and unscathed as _little as possible_." She smirked at him. "So, what do you say, little Harry? Shall we have some fun with your friends while you watch?"

"Don't you harm them!" Harry snarled. "I'm the one you want. Let them go, and I'll come with you!"

Bellatrix let out a loud peal of laughter. "Is baby Potty so dim?" she asked. "Do you think you are in a position to make negotiations, boy?" The other Death Eaters joined her in her laugh.

Harry struggled against Bellatrix's magical hold to no avail. "Well, then, who should we have a laugh with first?" Bellatrix said aloud. "The blood traitor or the mudblood?"

"Him first!" Greyback said eagerly, bringing Ron closer to him. Ron thrashed and kicked, his knuckles aiming for Greyback's face. Greyback caught his hand and twisted. A sickening crunch echoed throughout the alleyway and Ron let out a loud roar of pain as the bones in his arm broke.

"Ron!" Harry screamed. He felt rage consume him. "Let him go!"

The Death Eaters laughed as Greyback pulled on Ron's hair, exposing his throat to him. Harry felt a sickening sensation in the pit of his stomach. "NO! Don't harm him!" he screamed.

"So _this_ is what all the ruckus was about."

Everyone froze. They all turned their eyes to the top of one of the buildings that made up the alleyway. Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

Silhouetted against the moonlight were two figures both dressed in black. One was taller than the other and he had a mane of messy black hair that contrasted against his pale skin. His blood red eyes were fixed with an impassive look on the whole party gathered below him. He wore a suit that looked suspiciously like a tailcoat.

The other figure was shorter—a young boy who looked no older than thirteen. He had short, grayish black-hair, and a stunning blue eye. The other eye, his right eye, was covered by an eye patch. His arms were folded across his chest as he looked down on them with a rather sour expression on his face. They were probably muggles residing in the building. Harry wanted to shout a warning at the two to tell them to run, but found that his mouth couldn't open.

"Are you sure they are what you say they are, Sebastian?" the boy asked his companion.

"Indeed they are, Young Master," the one called Sebastian said.

The 'Young Master' scoffed. "When you said they were wizards, I expected to see something from the Middle Ages," the boy said, scowling in disappointment.

"Kill them!" Bellatrix screamed.

Jets of green light suddenly blazed from the other three Death Eaters wands towards the two newcomers. "Watch out!" a now conscious Hermione shrieked.

But the jets of green hit nothing. "What?" Bellatrix exclaimed, astonished. "Where are...?"

"Your aim is pretty off the mark, you know."

Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters turned to the entrance of the alleyway. The man and the boy were standing there. The man known as Sebastian had a small, mocking smile on his face, and the boy maintained the sour expression he wore. Harry blinked. How did they get there so fast?

"_Avada Kedavra!_" A jet of light issued from Bellatrix's wand. Sebastian and the boy were nothing more than a blur as they parted, allowing the jet of green to pass between them. They were fast, Harry thought.

"My, my," Sebastian said, highly amused. "It seems that ladies of this era are more temperamental than those of before, Young Master."

The boy scoffed and rolled his eyes. "What are you waiting for, you imbeciles?" Bellatrix snapped, glaring at the Death Eaters. "Kill them!"

Jets of green flashed through the darkness, heading towards the 'young master'. The young boy easily dodged them. He scowled heavily. "What a disappointment," he muttered. "Sebastian, get rid of the attackers."

Sebastian's smirk was cold. "Yes, my lord."

Harry could not understand what happened next. The moment Sebastian finished speaking, he suddenly vanished. A second later, the Death Eaters screamed as, one by one, they collapsed on the ground.

"Where? Where?" Greyback snarled, still holding Ron. He glanced around as the last of the three Death Eaters fell.

"Over here."

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment when he saw Sebastian standing just behind Greyback. The young man smirked, his finger flying to a spot on Greyback's neck. The werewolf made a gasping sound as he fell, pinning Ron beneath him. Greyback's eyes were oddly blank. Was he dead? Harry thought.

Bellatrix glared at Sebastian, before brandishing her wand. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Sebastian jumped gracefully into the air. Harry's eyes widened. That jump must have been more than thirty feet! Before Harry could conclude whether or not the young man was into steroids, Sebastian landed a foot in front of Bellatrix and smiled charmingly at her.

"It doesn't suit a lady to scowl so heavily," Sebastian mused.

"_Cru_-!" Before Bellatrix could finish her curse, Sebastian grasped the wrist of her wand hand, pointing her wand upward. He pulled her towards him and grasped the back of her neck in one fluid movement.

He smiled at her. "One may surmise that you were once charming," he commented, blood-red eyes critically taking in Bellatrix's gaunt face.

"Stop fooling around, you idiot," the boy said, rolling his eye.

Sebastian smiled at him, another cold smile. "Yes, my lord." He turned his attention back to Bellatrix.

Bellatrix glared and, with her free hand, she pulled a gleaming silver dagger from within her robes. Only a second elapsed before Bellatrix drove the dagger straight into Sebastian's chest with a furious snarl.

Sebastian's eyes widened in surprise as he let Bellatrix go. He staggered backward, his red eyes wide with horror as blood blossomed from the wound on his chest, where the dagger was still buried.

Strangely, the boy only let out a long, suffering sigh. "Sebastian, you're my butler, not an actor," he pointed out, impatient. "Hurry up. I want to go back to the house."

Sebastian suddenly steadied himself, his face hidden in shadow. He let out a small chuckle, a chuckle that made the hair on Harry's nape stand on end. "No way," Ron said, astonished. His eyes—like Harry's—were wide with shock. No normal wizard could have survived a stab to the _heart..._

"_Indeed_, Young Master," Sebastian said quietly.

Bellatrix appeared frozen to the stop, her eyes wide with horror. "Im-impossible," she stammered.

Sebastian slowly looked up and Harry felt his blood turn to ice. Sebastian's red eyes were glowing, the pupils narrowed into slits. He smiled, showing his teeth, as he carefully pulled out the dagger from his chest. He let the dagger fall to the cobblestones with a loud clang.

Bellatrix took a step back. "What kind of wizard are you?" Bellatrix asked, her voice filled with both rage and surprise.

Sebastian smirked as he took a step towards her. Like Bellatrix, it seemed he liked to play with his food. "No, I am nothing of a wizard," Sebastian said, placing a hand over his chest. "I could never be anything so lowly. No, I am just one _hell_ of a butler."

Bellatrix glared at him. She said something in a voice so low that only Sebastian could hear. Harry could see the butler smirking as he took another step towards her. Bellatrix threw him a look of both loathing and horror. A fraction of a second later, a loud crack echoed throughout the alley as she disapparated.

"How rude," Sebastian commented, the red glow of his eyes slowly fading. "Abandoning an unfinished conversation." He stared at the spot Bellatrix was standing on only a second ago. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he only let Bellatrix go to annoy his 'Young Master', who was glaring at him from the entrance, annoyance in his eye.

"You did say to get rid of the 'attackers', Young Master," Sebastian said, turning to him. He smiled at the young boy. Harry didn't like that smile. For some reason, it made him even more wary of the butler Sebastian.

The younger boy rolled his eye as he approached his butler. Harry stood up. From the peripheral of his vision, he could see Hermione helping Ron get Greyback's inert form off him.

"Who...who are you?" Harry asked the strange man dressed in black. Something told him to run from the pair, and run fast, but he controlled himself. Something about them did not seem right—especially those glowing red eyes—but that was no reason to run. He'd seen worse.

Both Sebastian and the boy turned to face him. The boy didn't seem to want to answer, but Sebastian spoke up. "How very improper of us," the butler said apologetically. "I am the butler of the noble house of Phantomhive, Sebastian Michaelis. And this is my Young Master, the head of the Phantomhive family, Earl Ciel Phantomhive."

_Phantomhive..._

Somehow, the name seemed all too familiar to Harry, but where he heard it, he couldn't say at the moment. Ciel Phantomhive scowled at his butler. "Let's go back, Sebastian," he said, impatiently turning to the entrance of the alleyway. "I hear company coming."

"As you wish, Young Master." Neither Sebastian nor Ciel spared them another glance as they left the alleyway, vanishing into the darkness.

For a moment, Harry stood rooted to the spot. Not only were they eccentrically dressed (was their sense of fashion Victorian?), but something about them just did not feel right. How on earth did a single human finish off four Death Eaters without the aid of a wand in less than a heartbeat?

This question occupied Harry's mind until he became aware of a loud grunting behind him. He turned. Hermione and Ron were still struggling with Greyback's limp body. He found his wand near the rubbish bin and pointed at Greyback.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_," he muttered. Greyback rose into the air. Harry pointed his wand to the dumpster and Greyback fell into it. "_Accio _wands," he said again. Hermione and Ron's wands zoomed into his outstretched hand. "Are you two alright?" he asked as he approached them.

Hermione nodded. "My head is throbbing like mad, but other than that, I'll be fine," she said.

Ron was still shaky as he got to his feet. "Did you see that guy, Sebastian?" Ron said, his eyes still wide.

"No," Harry said. "He was too fast to be seen."

"He must have used a speed charm," Hermione mused thoughtfully.

Harry bit his lower lip. Did they not see the way Sebastian's red eyes had glowed? It reminded him of Voldemort, and once again he shuddered. Something about those two did not seem right. But they were gone now.

"Harry!"

The trio turned to the entrance of the alley. Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Moody were rushing towards them. Lupin's clothes were torn in several places, and there was a cut along his neck. Tonks's hair was messed up, her lower lip cut. Moody looked unscathed, though flustered.

"Sirius!" Harry said.

"Are you lot alright?" Sirius asked, his eyes raking each of them from head to foot.

"We're fine," Harry reassured.

"What on earth happened here?" Tonks asked, her eyes taking in the Death Eaters on the ground. She knelt beside one Death Eater, her finger on his neck. Her eyes widened in surprise. "He's dead," she said quietly.

"They all are," Moody mused, both his eyes fixed on Harry.

"Greyback's in the dumpster," Ron offered.

Sirius, Lupin, Moody and Tonks stared at them, their eyes wide with surprise. "How did you lot manage to kill them?" Sirius asked. "Don't tell me you used..."

"No," Harry said quickly. "We weren't the ones that killed them. It was that butler dressed in black."

**. . .**

"Why you had to show me that fight, I will never know," Ciel Phantomhive said. He was seated at the back of his black Rolls Royce Silver Seraph, looking out the window with a bored look on his face.

"Didn't you say so before, Young Master?" Sebastian, who was driving, asked. "That you wanted to see something 'new'?"

Ciel scoffed. Years ago, after he had been transformed in to a demon, he and Sebastian had left the human realm and ventured into the demon realm. Eternal darkness reigned in the demon realm, the only source of light being a white moon that shone brighter than the moon in the human realm. But in no time at all, even the dark grandeur of the demon realm lost its appeal, and Ciel had found himself wondering what had happened to his mansion. And thus, around fifty years ago, he and Sebastian returned to the human realm (was it really fifty years? He couldn't be so sure, for time did not exist in the demonic realm).

Things _had_ changed.

The Phantomhive mansion had long since been abandoned. When Ciel had first laid eyes on it again, the mansion had fallen into a state of total disrepair, its fountain broken and clogged, the building slowly crumbling as the ivy climbed over its walls. Ciel had been amused. So Meylene, Finnian and Bard (who had all long passed away) hadn't destroyed the mansion as he thought they would. Still, it was an easy task for Sebastian to restore the mansion to what it once was.

Once the mansion had been restored, people started flocking over to see who was stupid enough to purchase the decrepit building. He had Sebastian explain—to the authorities, to the people, and to everyone else—that the rightful lord of the Earldom, Earl Phantomhive, had returned after so many years of absence.

People had been sceptic, wanting to see the erstwhile Earl for themselves. And so Ciel had no choice but to reveal himself in this modern era of idiots. He vividly remembered standing before a crowd of people who looked at him with indignation.

How could a _child_ be an earl?

"_I am a descendant of the last Earl, I am Ciel Phantomhive!_" Ciel had explained.

He vividly remembered the demonic headache both he and Sebastian had when they suddenly realized what returning to the human realm as Earl and servant meant—they had to deal with the legal issues (the modern Peerage seemed stupid to him). They also had to deal with the tentative business of _aging._ As a demon, it was easy for him to alter his appearance, bit by bit, as the years came and went. He and Sebastian always left the human realm when he was physically close to twenty-five (resembling his human father to such an extent that it unnerved him). They would return to the demon realm for several years and come back to the human realm, he looking thirteen again (he would say that he was the teenage son of the earl who'd left—again).

And then, there was the modern era itself...

Though interesting enough in its technological advances, he found this era to be rather indecent. For one thing, what on earth did the people wear these days? People no longer wore waistcoats! Ladies wore skirts that actually reached above their knees, and this was considered _acceptable_ (he vividly remembered Ran Mao, then).

And then there was Royal Family...

Of course, there was no more need for a 'watch dog' these days (actually, there was, but the Phantomhives had long since fallen out of credibility with the Royal Family). It was not like he wanted to be called 'the Queen's Watch Dog' again, anyway. Besides...he had his hands full with the Funtom Company, which he had Sebastian revive.

It had not been easy for Ciel to adapt to life as a demon. Admittedly, he did miss the sweets Sebastian used to make for him, but every time he tried to eat mortal food—behind Sebastian's back—he discovered that there was no flavour (it would turn to ash, actually), and it made the hunger in him even more known...a hunger that could only be quelled by souls.

Since he was still contracted to Ciel, Sebastian himself could not devour his Master's soul. Ciel, however, allowed Sebastian to devour the souls of the wicked instead ("Young Master, you have never partaken of a pure soul," the butler had said with distaste. "What flavour could there be in souls that are wicked when we, who devour them, are already wicked by nature?").

Ciel vividly remembered the first time when his own hunger became too much to bear. Demons like Sebastian were capable of staving off extreme hunger for centuries. However, Ciel had once been human and the demonic hunger was something new to him. He had ordered Sebastian to find him a human with a black heart, one that deserved death and damnation. Sebastian had brought him the soul of a man who had violated and killed his own daughter. And Sebastian had been right—a soul that was blackened with evil had no flavour for evil beings like them. But devouring a pure, innocent soul was not something Ciel would allow himself to do (though, he would never say this aloud. Sebastian would probably die of laughter).

"Young Master, we have arrived."

Ciel looked up just as the Silver Seraph passed through the gates of his townhouse. When he grew bored of the countryside, he took refuge here. Situated in a village meant for the upper class, the house easily outstripped the neighboring homes in terms of size and class. In truth, this was the same townhouse he used to inhabit before he became a demon. He vividly remembered allowing Prince Soma to be the governor of this house just to get the annoying prince out of his way.

"I'm tired, Sebastian," Ciel said as his butler opened the car door.

"I shall prepare tea immediately," Sebastian said, with a bow. In truth, Ciel wasn't tired—he never tired ever since he became a demon. Old habits were hard to ignore, however.

Ciel was about to take a step towards the door, when he found his way blocked by Sebastian's arm. "My, my," Sebastian said, smiling at his master. "Young Master, it seems that we have an unannounced visitor."

Ciel blinked and focused his senses on the empty house. He was still not used to his demonic senses to take note of a presence within the dark house.

He moved Sebastian's arm away and made for the door. "Don't tell me it's something you're afraid of," Ciel taunted, smirking at him.

Sebastian's smile only widened. "No. I was merely concerned for the Young Master's safety, seeing as being a demon has not changed your feeble...I mean, _delicate_ constitution."

Ciel glared before Sebastian himself approached the door. There were no other servants in the house (Sebastian being the only servant he needed). The black butler threw open the door. It only took a fraction of a second for both their eyes to adjust to the darkness.

"Well now, what do we have here?" Sebastian asked pleasantly as he stepped into the room, blocking Ciel's view.

"A pleasant evening to you both," a calm and aged voice said. Ciel narrowed his eyes. The voice, though aged, resonated with strength.

The demonic Earl stepped from behind Sebastian to see the intruder. His blue eye widened in surprise. Standing just in front of the staircase was an old man. But he didn't look like any old man. He had a mane of silver hair that almost reached down to the floor and a silver beard just as long. He had twinkling blue eyes that seemed to stare into Ciel's very soul (What kind of soul did he see? the young Earl wondered briefly). Perched on a crooked nose were half-moon glasses. He wore robes of a light blue color, decorated with silver stars with a matching pointed hat atop his head. To top it all off, this eccentric old man was holding a wand in between his fingers.

For an instant, the word _Merlin_ brushed across Ciel's mind, but he pushed the thought aside. "Who are you?" he asked, narrowing his eye.

The old man continued to smile, much to Ciel's annoyance. "My name is Professor Albus Dumbledore," he answered. "And I am neither an enemy nor a threat to you."

"Why are you here?" the young Earl asked. But before Dumbledore could answer, the lights suddenly flared to life. Ciel blinked and glanced around to find Sebastian standing beside the light switch, a smile on his face.

"Young Master," the butler said. "It seems that we have a guest."

**. . . **

Minutes later, Ciel was seated across Dumbledore in front of the warm fireplace. Ciel leaned his head against his hand as he watched Dumbledore sip the tea that Sebastian had prepared. The butler in question was standing just beside them, seemingly silent and indifferent, but Ciel knew his butler was surreptitiously scrutinizing Dumbledore.

"I have never tasted tea this good since I tried muggle iced tea," the old man commented. He lifted the leaf patterned tea cup in front of his eyes. "And this is, correct me if I am mistaken, Royal Crown Derby?" He smiled at Ciel. "Very fitting for you, Earl Phantomhive."

Ciel waved aside his impatience and remained silent. "But of course, you are wondering why I am here," Dumbledore said, setting his teacup down.

"Naturally," Ciel said. "I am not fond of intruders suddenly deemed as 'guests'." He threw Sebastian a glare, which made the corners of the butler's mouth twitch slightly.

"Then I do apologize," Dumbledore said politely. For a moment, the old man was silent, then he went on. "Earl Phantomhive, just an hour or so ago, you witnessed three teenagers, a little older than yourself, being chased down a dark alley."

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "You were watching?" Why weren't he and Sebastian able to detect his presence, then?

"Oh no," the old man went on. "It was not I—it was someone else."

Before Ciel could make head of his words, Sebastian suddenly spoke up. "Ah," his butler said. "The young boy in glasses, I presume."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that was Harry Potter," he went on. He was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes speculatively at the young Earl seated across him. "I have heard from someone whom he confided in that you saved their lives." His gaze was directed at Sebastian, then flitted back to Ciel.

Sebastian smiled, a hand over his heart (amazing that the blood was no longer there, thought Ciel). "I was only obeying my master's orders," Sebastian said, smiling.

"Indeed," Dumbledore said, sitting back in the chair. "Is it safe for me to presume that you know the nature of the incident that occurred just an hour ago?"

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Nature?" He paused then smirked. "Ah. You mean about the fact that they were wizards?"

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Earl Phantomhive," he went on. "You yourself should know that not all things are what they appear to be." Dumbledore smiled. "You yourself appear to be only thirteen, and yet I know for a fact that you are over two hundred years old." He glanced at Sebastian, whose ruby eyes narrowed. "However, I am not certain about you."

Ciel stiffened. Did this man know what they were? But then again, their actions in the alleyway were not the least bit discreet. Especially with Sebastian surviving that stab to the heart.

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and began humming. Ciel frowned at him. Yes, their actions had been rather flamboyant, but what made this man conclude that...

The young Earl smiled. "It seems, Professor, that you know just what we are?"

Dumbledore glanced up at him. "What you are? I have a theory."

Ciel leaned back in his chair, still smiling. "Let me hear your theory."

"Hm...I am fond of reading muggle newspapers"—What on earth was a 'muggle'? Ciel thought—"and there is a rather vast collection of muggle newspapers in the library at my school. Some dated two hundred years ago. There is a mention of a certain Earl Ciel Phantomhive, who owned one of the most lucrative businesses in London at age thirteen."

"There is also a picture of you," Dumbledore went on. "You look the same. I am not quite sure how it was that you managed to fool the muggles in this era, but I am convinced that you are more than two centuries old." He smiled again. "It could be that you are one of the rare ones to own a Sorcerer's stone—"

A what? Ciel thought.

"—or...it could be that you are part-human, part mythical creature—"

Ciel inwardly scoffed. Human, once, yes...not anymore.

"—but I will not pry into your lineage, Earl Phantomhive," Dumbledore said quietly, still smiling. He laced his long fingers together and started humming again.

A rather eccentric old man...even for a wizard.

Ciel waited for him to go on, but Dumbledore was still silent. "Why are you here then?" Ciel wondered how many times must he repeat such a question.

Dumbledore glanced at him from the top of his fingers and smiled. "How much do you know about the world, Earl Phantomhive?"

More than you could ever think, the boy thought. But he didn't say it aloud. "I know enough," he answered.

"Someone like you should know about the existence of creatures other than humans," Dumbledore went on. "I am sure that you are not blind to our kind—wizards, I mean." A pause. "Then you are perhaps not blind to the war breaking out?"

Ciel inwardly frowned. What war? He only learned about the existence of wizards yesterday, and that was only because Sebastian made a rather snide comment about how useless twigs and wands were. The word 'wands' had made Ciel curious and ask his butler. One thing had led to another, and he Sebastian found themselves atop an alley, watching as a gang of wizards cornered three teenagers.

Ciel remembered feeling somewhat disappointed about their modern appearance (his mother had read to him stories of King Arthur, but that was not something he bragged about). So, with only learning about wizards yesterday, how could this eccentric old coot expect him to know of a war between wizards?

He stole a quick glance at Sebastian. Undoubtedly, the black butler knew all there was about to know of wizards and the like. But Sebastian hardly shared anything with Ciel these days, unless Ciel asked him outright.

However, ignorance was not something Earl Phantomhive easily admitted to. "Continue," Ciel said.

Dumbledore smiled at him, sensing the proud boy's ignorance. "In the world of wizards, we are at war with a wizard who is close to immortal. He has slaughtered thousands. Not just wizards and witches, but magical creatures and even muggles, or ordinary non-wizarding folk." Dumbledore paused to let the information sink in. "His name is Lord Voldemort."

Ciel inwardly scoffed. "Slaughtered thousands?" he said. "I would have noticed."

Sebastian grinned. "Young Master is new to the world, and as such, is focused mainly on himself, and his property."

Ciel glared at him and Dumbledore raised an eyebrow at the young boy. "My apologies," Dumbledore said. "I should have explained more."

"What is it that you want, Professor?" Ciel finally asked, patience wearing thin. "It couldn't be that you're here just to inform me of the 'wizarding world' and of the 'war'."

The old man smiled. "Of course," Dumbledore said. "I wished to ask your assistance."

There was a pause. "My...assistance?" Ciel echoed. This was starting to be funny.

"Both of your assistance." The old man's gaze rested on Sebastian, who struggled to keep his face impassive. The butler wanted to raise an eyebrow, and raise it bad. There was no doubt in Sebastian's mind that this old man knew just what he and the Young Master were. Quite a bold old man, asking a favor from _them_—or perhaps he was completely mad?

Ciel seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "And why I should I help you?" Ciel asked. "A war between wizards hardly affects us." The young boy smirked and the color of his blue eye shifted from sapphire blue to demonic red.

For an instant, Sebastian could practically smell the fear that rolled off the old man. But it vanished quite so suddenly, that it surprised the black butler.

Dumbledore smiled at the red-eyed glare at Ciel gave him. "Indeed, it hardly affects you at all, Earl Phantomhive," he said pleasantly. "However, it does affect the lives of thousands, and surely, the human compassion buried within you stirs at this?"

Ciel raised an eyebrow. The old man expected him to do charity work? He had to scoff. "What goes on between humans is none of my business," the Earl said, frowning at him.

Dumbledore's piercing blue eye met his red one. "No?" he went on. "You do not care if thousands of humans are killed, children among them?"

Sebastian had to smile rather devilishly at that. Clever old man. He knew Ciel was still 'young' to life as a demon. Knew that Ciel was once human, and that some human tendencies remained, compassion among them. But the Young Master was never the compassionate type.

Ciel frowned at him. "No." Something nagged at him, but it was easily pushed away. So? He wasn't human. Anymore.

There was silence as Dumbledore studied Ciel critically. His gaze flickered to the butler standing just beside his master.

"If I may speak, Young Master?" Sebastian said, a bright gleam in his demonic eyes.

Ciel nodded once. "Professor," Sebastian went on, turning to Dumbledore. "It seems that you want something from us. And I am sure that you are very much aware of what we are."

"Indeed, it is so," Dumbledore said cheerfully. Sebastian smiled a devilish smile as his red eyes glowed, the pupils narrowing into slits.

"Then I propose the Young Master offer you a contract."

**. . . . . .**

**So that's that for the first chapter. Reviews are highly appreciated! And...are any of the characters OOC, even a bit? It's been a while since I wrote, and I think I may be a little rusty.**

**Review please!**

**Oh, and with regard to my other stories-I'm in the middle of updating them. I was actually halfway through when an idea for this story just popped into my head and wouldn't leave me alone. T.T**


	2. That Butler, Ready

**I'm sorry if it takes so long for me to update. Life has been nothing but a whirlwind of school and hospital duty these past few months. Anyway, thanks to those who read and reviewed this story! I didn't actually expect to get that much reviews for the first chapter, you know. And I'm really grateful! : D**

**And yes, to those who asked...Harry is sixteen, and already due to start his sixth year at Hogwarts, so why is Sirius alive? Simple. I love him x) And I think it's so sad he had to die just when he and Harry already had a budding father-son relationship.**

**II**

**That Butler, Ready**

**. . . **

"_...allow me gently to lead him where I will,  
>I promise you that you will lose him still."<br>-Mephistopheles (Goethe's _Faust)

**. . .**

_Run..._

Down the dark corridor.

_Run..._

The corridor seemed to stretch on and on. Harry felt his lungs about to burst from the effort of running, felt the cold sweat trickling down his forehead as his legs pumped him further on.

_You have nowhere to go, Harry Potter._

The voice was high pitched and cold...He felt his scar throbbing as the adrenaline surged through him, propelling him towards the door at the end of the corridor.

_You are mine._

A pair of glowing red eyes suddenly flashed at him through the darkness...

**. . .**

Harry Potter woke with a start.

Cold sweat beaded Harry's forehead as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness. The dark ceiling of his room in Number 12 Grimmauld place was a blur. It had been a dream...

But it had felt so real.

Harry let out a sigh and rolled over, retrieving his glasses from the bedside table. He sat up and put them on. Ron was snoring softly on the bed just across from his, his dreams undoubtedly free of troubles.

Harry's cold fingers felt the scar on his forehead. It was still throbbing. It had been doing this so often in the past that he was almost used to the pain by now. The pain was usually attuned to Voldemort's emotions...What had the Dark Lord been feeling? Harry wondered as he got out of bed.

He stretched and made his way to the window, his brilliant green eyes taking in the inky black sky. What had Voldemort been feeling? Usually, he was able to tell whether or not Voldemort was feeling angry, exuberant, or even anxious. But this evening, the Dark Lord's emotions seemed...ambiguous somehow...

"Harry?"

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Ron was sitting up in bed, sleepy and his hair tousled. "What're you...doing up at at...three in the mor...mor...mooorniiing?" Ron asked, yawning.

He shrugged. "Had a dream...that's all."

"Aren't you supposed to be blocking out those dreams?" Ron asked.

Harry felt guilty. True, he _was_ supposed to be blocking out Voldemort's thoughts with occlumency. "Sometimes they just...slip in," Harry explained. He didn't bother mentioning that he was as good at occlumency as he was as good at potions.

Ron was growing more alert now. "What was it about?"

Harry shook his head. "Couldn't make any sense of it...Just running down a dark corridor." He thought it best to leave out the glowing red eyes...and Voldemort's voice. No doubt the word 'Voldemort', uttered this early in the morning, would throw Ron into a state of anxiety.

"D'you think you should tell Dumbledore?" Ron asked.

"I wouldn't want to bother him." Dumbledore seemed excessively busy this year—he was often away on long trips, returning so rarely to Hogwarts that even Professor McGonagall worried. Where he went and what he did, no one was quite sure, but undoubtedly it had something to do with Voldemort.

"He'd want you to bother him," Ron pointed out.

Harry frowned. The last time he had seen Dumbledore was just last night, after that butler killed off the Death Eaters without even breaking into a sweat. Harry had told Dumbledore about the butler, Sebastian, and his master, Earl Phantomhive. Dumbledore had been silent and thoughtful , and then he'd left without giving an explanation.

Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore has more important things to take care of," Harry said. "All I have to do is practice occlumency and the dreams will stop." He suddenly frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"It's just that," Harry explained, "the name 'Phantomhive' is familiar. I've heard it before, I just can't recall where."

"You said that kid with the eyepatch was an Earl, right?" Ron asked. "I don't know much about muggles, mate, but if they've got some green blood—"

"Blue," Harry corrected, stifling the urge to chuckle.

" –_blue_ blood...wouldn't they be sort of famous in the muggle world?" Ron yawned again.

Harry let out a sigh. "Let's just say I haven't really been paying attention to the muggle world ever since I discovered the wizarding world," he said, somewhat sheepish. "But the name 'Phantomhive'...it rings a bell."

"You know what?" Ron said, sinking back into bed. "We could ask Hermione tomorrow...She knows _everything_."

**. . .**

The breeze that blew through Ciel Phantomhive's hair was cold.

The immortal Earl was standing on the roof of his townhouse, his blue eye fixed on the cold moon. He frowned, reached behind his head and untied his eyepatch, letting it fall to his feet. He opened his closed eye. His vision was often marred by the contract mark in this eye, but he was used to it by now.

_Two contract marks..._

Ciel glanced down at his left hand. On the back of his hand was an upside down pentagram enclosed in a double circle. At each point of the pentagram, between each circle, were ancient letters that, according to Sebastian, translated to _Leviathan_. Ciel frowned as he watched it.

"Admiring your new collar, my Lord?"

Ciel glanced sharply over his shoulder. Sebastian was giving him his trademark devilish smile. "Silence," the boy hissed.

Sebastian came closer, his tailcoat fluttering in the breeze. "You may find this life of servitude oppressive," he commented. "However, you have nothing to worry about—your collar is temporary, binding you to your new master only until his objective is fulfilled. And I must say, Young Master, his objective is rather queer."

Ciel frowned, remembering the old man's words. He shoved his thoughts regarding the old man aside and turned around to face Sebastian. "Why did you suggest a covenant with the old man in the first place?" he asked, narrowing his eyes. "Hoping my pact with Dumbledore will render our contract null and void?"

Sebastian knelt on one knee. "I am faithfully your eternal servant," Sebastian said, his head bowed. "Everything I do is for the Young Master's benefit. Moreover, our contract shall remain until the day I swallow your soul."

The young Earl smirked at him. "But since I shall never die, your hope of obtaining my soul is gone."

The black butler looked up at him, his red eyes aglow. "And thus, Young Master, count yourself lucky—your fetters shall soon fall away. Mine shall eternally stay."

**. . .**

"Honestly, Harry, how could you not know the name Phantomhive?" Hermione asked the next morning, at breakfast. It was just the three of them in the dining room, with Kreacher lingering near the sink, mumbling under his breath.

"I haven't really been interested in the muggle world for the past six years, Hermione," Harry defended. Beside him, Ron was busy wolfing down pieces of bacon, his eyes fixed on Harry and Hermione.

Hermione frowned. "Phantomhive is the name of the young earl who was newly appointed into the peerage, five years ago," she explained. "It was all over the news. People were skeptic about a _child_ in the peerage. But the fact that he owns the world's most lucrative toy and gaming company silenced everyone's mouths."

"So that's why the name was familiar," Harry said. "Dudley always wanted new gadgets, and I think the brand was 'Funtom'."

"Yes, yes, a play on the word 'phantom'," Hermione said dismissively. She leaned on her elbows and gave Harry a piercing look. "Are you sure those two people in the alley were...?"

"I'm positive," Harry confirmed. "That butler, Sebastian, said that his master was the Earl Phantomhive."

"But what were they doing there, of all places?" Hermione pondered, the look in her eyes distant.

"And how'd that guy get rid of those Death Eaters just like that?" Ron asked, swallowing his food.

Harry frowned. "What I want to know," he said quietly, his eyes boring into Ron and Hermione, "is how that guy survived a stab to the heart."

Both Hermione and Ron's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "To the _heart_?" Hermione said, surprised. "You didn't mention this before!"

Ron was too speechless for words.

Harry was about to continue, when two loud cracks echoed simultaneously in the kitchen. Harry jumped to his feet, Hermione let out a little scream and Ron gagged on his toast.

"What's all the commotion about, mates?" Fred asked. He and George both wore identical grins on their faces. No doubt they were pleased with the trouble they had caused.

Ron was cursing under his breath. "Ronald Weasley!" George exclaimed, horrified. "How dare you swear at the table!"

"This is tragic, George," Fred said, sighing. "You and I are malicious miscreants from the very depths of hell...but we've never done anything so vulgar as to curse at the table!"

"Shuddup!" Ron snapped.

Harry sat back down at his chair as Hermione pursed her lip. "So, our itty bitty friends," George said as he and Fred sat on either side of Hermione. "What in the name of Merlin's pants are you lot doing in here when there's a top-secret meeting going on upstairs?"

Harry looked alert. "A meeting?" he said. "With Dumbledore?"

Fred nodded. "Yup! It seems as though Dumbledore returned at the crack of dawn, looking rather discouraged from what we've heard." Though he sounded carefree, Harry knew the look in Fred's eyes was one of worry.

Harry frowned. It wasn't often that Dumbledore stayed at Headquarters—he'd been coming back now for two nights in a row. What could Dumbledore have been up to?

"...tried using the Extendable Ears, but Mom's gone and put an Imperturbable charm on the door." Harry was jarred out of his thoughts by George's explanation.

"Must be pretty top secret," Fred went on. "_Everyone's _there...even old Snape."

Harry looked down at his plate, a frown on his face. "However, we did manage to overhear something," George said.

"Right before Mum realized we were eavesdropping," piped up Fred.

"And came out screaming like a banshee."

"She threw insults like Kreacher, though."

Hermione let out a small cough. "What did you two overhear, exactly?"

The twins were silent. "Hm, not quite sure," Fred said, his tone serious. His brow furrowed. "Something about someone doing something he shouldn't have done...I think. It was mostly Sirius talking about that."

"Yeah, I think his exact words were: '...not something you had to do!'. He sounded pretty mad," George said.

"Who could he have been talking to?" Hermione wondered.

"Dumbledore?" Harry suggested.

"But since when have Dumbledore's actions ever been questioned?" Ron asked.

"And how many more unanswered questions do you lot plan on asking?" a voice asked.

Their eyes widened in surprise and they turned to the doorway. Sirius Black was leaning against the doorframe, an eyebrow raised at the group of teenage wizards in the kitchen. He seemed amused, but his eyes, Harry noted, were cautious...and troubled.

"Sirius!" they chorused.

"Meeting over then, mate?" Fred asked, grinning.

Sirius moved to the table, but he didn't sit down. "So, little eavesdropping miscreants," Sirius said to the twins. "Spreading gossip like wildfire, eh?"

"It wasn't gossip, it was fact," George said, hurt.

Sirius shook his head. "You're lucky Molly didn't catch you talking about what you overheard—she'd probably have Ginny do a Bat Bogey hex on you."

"What was the meeting about, Sirius?" Harry asked.

His godfather turned to him. "Oh, this and that," Sirius said dismissively, drawing a seat for himself. He fixed his eyes on Harry and let out a small sigh. "The truth is, it's not something you lot really should know. According to Dumbledore, the less you know, the better."

"How is that any helpful?" Ron asked.

Sirius shrugged. "Let's just say that being in the dark for now is what's best," he said.

Harry frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly at his godfather. Usually, Sirius was all for telling Harry _anything_ that went on during meetings. What was so important that it would keep Sirius from telling him anything?

"What do you mean 'for now'?" Harry asked.

Sirius grinned at him. "Well, Harry, knowing how very much like James you are, I'm sure that you and your friends will be able to figure it out...soon."

For the rest of the day, though they tried hard to hide it, Harry couldn't help but notice how troubled the rest of the members of the Order were.

**. . .**

Ciel frowned as Sebastian drove down Charing Cross Road. In order to comply with his Master's wishes, it was necessary that he, Earl Ciel Phantomhive, be present at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—as a _student_. And to be a student, it was necessary that he look like one, which led to this little outing.

Sebastian had explained earlier that most of the wizards in Britain went to Diagon Alley in order to make necessary purchases. Ciel had expected that Sebastian would transport them to whatever magical place this Diagon Alley was. It was safe to say that he had been most disappointed when Sebastian informed him that they would be using the car to drive to the heart of London.

How could there be a wizard-filled place in London? Ciel had wondered, but didn't dare ask his butler. Sebastian would no doubt point out his ignorance. Well, unlike Sebastian, who seemed to know about magic _and_ was over three thousand years old, he didn't have enough experience yet. Something the young Earl was about to correct.

Ciel raised an incredulous eyebrow as Sebastian stopped the car in front of a tiny and grubby looking building. It didn't help that this dismal structure was situated between a book and record shop—it looked even grubbier than it already looked.

"Young Master, we have arrived," Sebastian said. He got out of the car to open Ciel's door with a bow.

The Earl of Phantomhive stepped out, his cane in hand. In this era, he had wisely chosen to let the hat go. He scowled at the building in front of him. "Are you sure you have the right place?" he asked, not looking at his butler, who was still bowing.

"How could I be the Phantomhive butler if I couldn't even locate the Leaky Cauldron?" Sebastian asked, straightening.

Ciel scoffed. "The Leaky Cauldron, eh?" he said with contempt. "The name fits."

Sebastian smiled at him. "You shouldn't let appearances deceive you, Master," he said. "You, of all people, should know that."

Ciel ignored him as they approached the building. The interior of the 'famous' Leaky Cauldron was even worse than outside. The inside was dark and shabby and if Ciel was still human, he had a feeling that he would be sneezing. The moment he and Sebastian entered, several heads turned in their direction, curious eyes appraising their attire—and no wonder. Most of the customers wore cloaks and robes, some with the hood drawn. At the bar, a woman who looked like a hag ordered a plate of raw liver.

Sebastian glanced around. He himself had never been in the Leaky Cauldron, seeing as there was no need for him to go through the gateway to get to Diagon Alley. However, he felt that his Young Master needed to be more 'exposed' to things that he was ignorant of.

"Hey there," several voices suddenly said.

Sebastian's eyebrows shot up in surprise when he suddenly found himself surrounded by a trio of pretty young witches. "We haven't seen you around here. You new?" one of the witches asked, smiling coyly at him.

Sebastian felt a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead in annoyance. He had already lost count of the number of times that he had been assaulted in this manner by human women.

"Actually, no," Sebastian replied politely, offering the girls a smile.

"Eh?" witch number two asked, raising a delicate eyebrow. "You dress like a common muggle."

"A very delicious muggle," witch number three said, smirking.

"Adelia!" the other two witches said, scandalized.

"What? It is true, you know."

Sebastian resisted the urge to twitch a facial muscle. Oh, if these witches knew what he really was, would they still be sidling up to him? What happened to the women who were meek and shy, anyway? "I thank you for your compliment," the butler said, the fake smile still on his face. "However, I had best be on my way—my Master awaits me."

The three witches blinked. "Huh? Master?" the one called Adelia said.

Sebastian extricated himself from the three witches. His master was waiting for him beside the bar, his elbow leaning against the stool. He knew the mocking look on Ciel's face well.

"Looks as though you've got yourself a fan club," Ciel said, grinning. "They looked as though they wanted to devour _y_o_ur_ soul, Sebastian."

"Attractive though they may be, they are not my type," the butler said, shrugging.

Ciel raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "_You_ actually have a type?"

"Anything I can do for you chaps?" The servant and master turned to a toothless old man standing just behind the bar. Like the rest of the people in the pub, he was eyeing their apparel with evident curiosity. "I'm Tom, the innkeeper."

"We would like to get to Diagon Alley," Sebastian said.

The innkeeper nodded and motioned towards a door at the end of the hallway. "Right through there."

"Thank you."

Ciel lead the way down the corridor and out the door. They found themselves in a walled courtyard, directly opposite a brick wall. There was nothing in the courtyard except a trash bin, a pile of sodden newspapers, and an empty box.

"Your contempt is unjustified, Master," Sebastian said as he walked towards the wall. He paused, his red eyes sweeping the entire wall, then smiled as he reached out and tapped several of the bricks.

Ciel's eyes widened slightly as he heard the sound of brick scraping against brick as the wall slowly seemed to crumble, forming an archway. Beyond the archway, he could see scores of people...no, these were not people—these were wizards and witches. And these wizards and witches were busy ducking into shops that lined the street of Diagon Alley.

He became aware of Sebastian looking down at him, an amused expression on his face. "As I said before, Young Master, you of all people shouldn't be deceived by appearances."

**. . .**

"Mum, I need another robe—mine's going above my ankle." Ron flushed as he said the words.

Mrs. Weasley let out a sigh. "Well...all right. To the second hand shop then."

They were standing outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Harry and Hermione were with Mrs. Weasley, the twins, as well as Ron and Ginny to shop for the upcoming school year—a task that Harry felt he'd rather sit out. It wasn't that he didn't like going to Diagon Alley (on the contraire, he loved to) it was that he always felt awkward shopping with the Weasleys, who were desperately poor. Harry himself had been left a small fortune in gold galleons by his parents, and he was more than willing to split it with the Weasleys. He was sure, however, that they would firmly, but politely, decline.

He suddenly felt something small and wet nudging his palm and he looked down. Sirius the dog was giving him a rather reproachful look. Could his godfather read the expression on his face?

Harry shook his head and Sirius let out a sigh of frustration, shaking his head as well. "Sirius!" Mrs. Weasley whispered under her breath. "If you're coming on this trip as a dog, then please try to behave like one."

"She does have a point, you know," Tonks piped up. Her hair today was a garish shade of orange, reaching down to her waist. She, along with Kingsley, who was standing next to her, was accompanying them as a part of Harry's guard.

Harry, Ron and Hermione chuckled as Sirius let out a whine of annoyance. "Don't worry, Siri..._Snuffles_," George said. "We'll make sure to get you one big juicy bone afterwards."

Sirius rolled his eyes and Harry chuckled, giving his godfather an affectionate pat on the head. "So, Ron and I will be off to the second hand shop," Mrs. Weasley went on. "Does anyone else need anything?"

"I'm off to the Apothecary," Harry announced. He needed to stock up for his least favorite subject—potions.

"There's a fascinating book in Flourish and Blotts," Hermione said, "that my Mum wanted. I'm getting it for her."

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Right then," she said. "Fred, George, with me, Ron and Kingsley. Harry, Hermione and Ginny with Sirius and Tonks—"

"What?" the twins piped up. "Shopping with ickle Ronnikins? Can't we go off with Tonks instead?"

Mrs. Weasley gave them a hard look. No doubt, the events of the other night were still in on her mind. "Sirius and I can handle them Molly," Tonks reassured her. "These boys will be on their best behavior, as long as I'm around."

"The Death Eaters won't try anything in broad daylight," Kingsley said under his breath.

Mrs. Weasley pursed her lip. "Right, then," she relented. "But I'll have to take Ginny with me." As she, Ron, Ginny and Kingsely swept off to the second hand robe shop, Fred and George immediately rushed off to Gambol and Japes, swearing that they wouldn't be more than ten minutes.

Tonks let out a sigh. "Honestly," she muttered, a small smile on her lips. "Well, Harry, Hermione, where to then?"

**. . .**

Ten minutes later, Harry, Hermione and Tonks were leaving the Apothecary after Harry restocked on his dwindling supply of essence of Belladonna. Sirius had to wait outside, as pets were not allowed in the shop. The crowd thickened as they made their way back to Florean Fortescue's. Sirius walked ahead of them while Tonks brought up the rear.

"Make sure not to get separated," Tonks muttered as the crowd pushed past them.

A burly wizard passing by suddenly shoved against Harry's shoulder. Harry staggered and his glasses fell off his nose. There was a crunch of glass and Harry inwardly groaned as he bent to retrieve his glasses.

"Harry?" Hermione said, worried.

"It's just my glasses," Harry reassured as he straightened and put his glasses on. His eyes widened in surprise.

Standing just across the street, across the sea of people, was a young boy with bluish-black hair and an eyepatch. The boy was staring at him with his sapphire blue eye, a hand in the pocket of the fancy jacket he wore. It was as though the rushing crowd suddenly slowed down as Harry and the strange boy stared at each other. The boy's sapphire eye suddenly shifted to a glowing red, but at that moment, a trio of witches passed by and the boy suddenly vanished.

"Harry?" A hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Hermione. "Harry, are you alright?"

Harry suddenly became aware of Sirius and Tonks staring at him with apparent worry. Harry glanced back at the spot where he had seen the boy. He was gone.

"I...I thought I saw," Harry stammered, "I thought I saw Phantomhive."

"What?" Hermione said, her grip tightening.

"That young Earl," Harry went on as he turned to her. "The one called Earl Phantomhive. I think I saw him."

He became aware of Sirius and Tonks exchanging a look—a look that made Harry suspicious. "Are you sure?" Tonks asked.

He nodded. "He was just there...but he's gone."

Tonks, Hermione and Sirius glanced at the spot where Harry had been staring at. Hermione looked puzzled but Tonks and Sirius, Harry noted, looked worried.

**. . .**

Ciel spread his arms as Sebastian draped the black robe on him. The Earl looked at himself in the mirror, both eyes narrowed critically at the clothing he wore. The uniform wasn't much to his taste, but the black robe suited him just fine.

He suddenly frowned at his reflection, thinking of the time he would put into serving his first master. Master...

Heh. He, Earl Ciel Phantomhive, had become the _servant_. He felt that he could finally empathize with Sebastian on that point.

Sebastian finished putting the finishing touches on the robe and stepped back to let his master inspect himself in the mirror. The butler knew that Ciel abhorred this—being the servant of another. The corner of his lips twitched with humor at the irony of his master being the servant of someone else.

The black butler watched as his master narrowed his eyes critically at his reflection in the mirror. "Does something displease you, my lord?" Sebastian asked.

"_This_," Ciel replied, glaring at the reflection of his robes. "What nonsense to have to go through this little masquerade. Why can I not just destroy that Voldemort directly? It would save us the time and the trouble of prancing around in this costume."

"It is not what your master wishes, my lord," Sebastian reminded him.

Ciel scoffed. "Sebastian, give me the wand," he ordered.

Sebastian bowed and retrieved a thin, long wooden box from the dresser. He opened it and handed the wand to his master.

Ciel frowned at the wand. It wasn't really a wand—it was a fake. According to Sebastian, devils like them could not use _human_ magic (Sebastian refused to give the reason, saying that he would figure it out sooner or later). Well, that was fine so long as Ciel was not required to perform any spells in public.

The Earl pulled his eyes away from the wand and trained them back to the mirror. The truth was, he really _did_ look like a wizard and, despite the fact that he was no longer human, he felt a rush of excitement at the prospect of attending a wizarding school. He knew that he had to hide this excitement, lest Sebastian make an utter laughing stock out of him.

"I suppose I shall have to ask Mr. Gibson to take over my affairs for a while," Ciel said, more to himself than to Sebastian. Mr. Wendell Gibson was obsequious as he was obscure. But, despite his numerous detractions, he was cunning, devious and exceedingly loyal—the sort of combination that he found useful.

He suddenly smirked at his reflection then turned his back on the mirror. He walked past Sebastian and seated himself in the red Queen Anne arm chair. He crossed his legs, leaned an elbow against the armrest and leaned his cheek against his palm as he twirled the fake wand in his other hand.

"Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry—this could be fun," Ciel said, his smirk broadening. He glanced at Sebastian. "Let's show them how well you can play any role, Sebastian."

Sebastian smirked. He knelt in front of his master, his head bowed and a hand against his chest. "Yes, my lord."

**. . .**

**End of chapter two.**

**Hm...didn't quite find this chapter appealing—I get the feeling that something's missing. Please review to tell me what! : D Oh, and is anyone acting out of character, please let me know. And yes, this chapter was short...the next one will be longer, I promise. ; D**

**Oh, and a point I need to mention. I refer to Sebastian and Ciel as **_**devils**_** instead of **_**demons**_** because well, because they **_**are **_**devils and not demons. The two are different. The demon usually does a devil's bidding and can be killed. A devil cannot be killed and is higher in rank.**


	3. That Butler, Mingling

**To those who've read and reviewed the previous chapter, thank you! : D**

**Yeah, I'm making more of an effort to update my Kuroshitsuji fanfic, so my other stories might still be on hold for a while (not to mention, I've got massive Writer's Block for my other stories—I think it's Sebastian's doing o.o)**

**Oh, and I noticed in the first chapter when Dumbledore states that Ciel is over two hundred years old, it's wrong. It should be just around 122 or 121. Yes—I'm horrible with mathematics, I know x) Oh, and—I think I'd much rather prefer the term 'demon' to 'devil'. For some reason, the former sounds cooler, doesn't it? Though do bear in mind that they **_**are**_** devils.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!**

**III**

**That Butler, Mingling**

**. . . **

"_...it is more than civil  
>to talk so humanly with the very devil."<br>-Mephistopheles (Goethe's _Faust)

**. . .**

"You've kept me waiting, Bella."

Bellatrix Lestrange cringed as though the harsh, cold voice alone had whipped her. She bowed on the floor, her forehead touching the cold marble as she prostrated herself before her lord and master.

"My lord, it was not my intention to do so," Bellatrix whispered. She did not dare look up. Instead, she kept her eyes on the floor. Shadows danced in front of her, but the shadow standing before her was still.

"Oh?" her master's cold voice hissed. "The plan would have succeeded. Harry Potter and his friends were separated from the other members of the Order. Harry Potter was cornered." Bellatrix winced as the voice grew louder. "Harry Potter should have been _mine!_"

Bellatrix dared to look up—and wished she hadn't. The rage and contempt in her master's crimson eyes were more than enough to send the bravest wizard hiding under a rock.

"But you let the boy escape," Voldemort said softly, his long fingers caressing his wand. "And all of the Death Eaters accompanying you were even killed!"

"Master, the fault was not mine!" Bellatrix exclaimed. "It was the boy and that...that _demon!_"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "Demon?" the dark wizard whispered, his voice carrying across the room.

Bellatrix bowed her head again. "My lord, the reason why I have delayed is because I had to be sure," she said, her voice low.

"Explain."

"Harry Potter would have been ours!" Bellatrix said passionately. "But a young boy and a young man appeared. This young man killed off the other Death Eaters—_without even using a wand!_ In retaliation, I stabbed his heart."

Voldemort remained quiet, so Bellatrix continued. "But he didn't die, Master," she whispered, her eyes on the ground again. There was anger in her voice, as well as a hint of fear. "I failed to kill him!"

The pause made Bellatrix look up. Her eyes widened in surprise.

Voldemort was smiling.

**. . .**

The old man stared out at the window, at the full moon. The light of the moon cast a ghostly glow about him, his sweeping silver beard shimmering in the moonlight. His gloved hands were clasped behind his back. Behind his half-moon spectacles, his brilliant blue eyes took in the moon's serene glow.

Albus Dumbledore sighed. Unlike the moon, he was, for once, far from serene.

The headmaster lifted his right gloved hand to his face, the light of the moon casting a silvery glow to the blue glove he wore. He raised the other hand, intent on removing the glove, but he stopped. Despite already knowing what he would find, was he afraid to remove the glove?

He removed the glove anyway.

On the back of his right hand was an upside down pentagram, enclosed in two circles. A symbol that matched the one on Earl Phantomhive's left hand.

He suddenly heard a snort behind him.

Dumbledore lowered his hand and glanced over his shoulder, at the portrait of Phineas Nigellus. He smiled. "Is something bothering you, Phineas?" he asked pleasantly.

"That!" Phineas huffed, his eyes on the mark on Dumbledore's right hand. "Dumbledore, I'm sorry for saying this but what you have done is...madness!"

Chuckling, Dumbledore turned away from the window. "I cannot help but agree," the portrait of Dilys said. Her lips were pressed in a hard thin line.

"People seem to be calling me mad these days," Dumbledore said cheerfully, sitting behind his oak desk.

"We're not calling _you_ mad," Phineas huffed. "We're calling your deal with the brat mad!"

Dumbledore raised a hand. "I believe Earl Phantomhive is far from a 'brat', Phineas," Dumbledore said as he gloved his right hand.

"He's a demon!" Phineas exclaimed.

"He seems to me a lost child," Dumbledore said.

Phineas let out a huff of frustration. He was silent for a moment. "You can still get out of it," he muttered. "Out of this madness."

Dumbledore leaned back. "On the contrary, I am very much looking forward to this madness," he said. "I believe, at the end of it all, I will still be _sane_." He was silent for a while. "Hm. It seems that I have another problem to look into."

**. . .**

Ciel raised an eyebrow as he flipped the page of a book he had been reading. The book was one of the many they had purchased at Diagon Alley earlier in the day. He had taken to reading all of his new books in preparation for his role as a student. Admittedly, he found the wizarding books to be highly interesting, different from what he had studied when he was still human (again, he refused to admit this aloud). The volume he was currently immersed in was particularly gripping.

_The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ gave him all the information he needed to know on this Lord Voldemort character. And what he did know, he thoroughly disliked...or rather, he found boring. This Voldemort was no different from the typical power-hungry tyrant that occasionally roamed the earth, with the exception of his wielding magic, that is. He huffed and closed the book, leaning back in his chair, his arms resting on the arm rests.

He was sorely tempted to hunt down Voldemort and have Sebastian destroy him, but, as Sebastian reminded him, his master's wishes prevented him from doing so. And here came another dilemma...

It was bad enough that he had to serve someone else. It was worse when that someone happened to be rather...eccentrically whimsical.

Ciel Phantomhive had encountered numerous types of denizens over the course of his existence, ranging from the 'homo' Grim Reaper to the womanizing viscount. However, this was the first time in his life that he had encountered someone as queer as his master, Albus Dumbledore. Maybe he was even more than queer...maybe he was completely and utterly _mad_...

Ciel pushed the thoughts from his mind. He had better things to do at the moment. He stood from his chair and walked towards the window that faced the busy street. The curtains were drawn. He parted them and looked at the street, at the throngs of people walking just outside the gates of his townhouse.

He allowed himself a small smile. How many of them were actually wizards? He realized that there was so little he knew about the world. Well, he was about to correct that.

He suddenly sensed something.

Drawing his eyes away from the crowds, he looked up at the sky. It was far away, a brown speck against the pale blue sky. But even at this distance, he had no trouble making out the owl heading towards his window.

An owl? He had learned from Sebastian that owls were what wizards used to send messages to each other (which was rather silly, seeing as how slow owls were. Hadn't wizards ever heard of cellphones?).

Ciel opened the window as the owl drew near. Several curious heads in the street below looked up at the owl that flew through the Earl of Phantomhive's window. Ciel paid them no heed as the owl flew onto his outstretched arm.

It was a handsome tawny owl, larger than a regular owl, with piercing amber eyes. Ciel took a moment to admire the creature before turning his attention to the bird's outstretched leg. Attached to its leg was a letter.

_How medieval_, the Earl thought as he detached the letter. The owl immediately took flight, its feathers brushing lightly against Ciel's cheek as it flew through the window.

He watched as it soared away before turning his attention to the letter he held. He studied the wax crest on the letter—a badger, an eagle, a serpent and a lion surrounding a large letter 'H'.

Sitting at his desk, he took a letter opener, sliced the crest and took out the letter. It was written on parchment paper. He raised an eyebrow, amused. It was a letter from his master. Chuckling, the demonic Earl began to read:

_Dear Earl Phantomhive,_

_I trust you are well? I understand that I have not contacted you for some time, however I hope that things are proceeding according to plan? Knowing how more than capable you are, I have no doubt that this is the case. You are to take the train on platform nine and three quarters at King's Cross Station on September first. Forgive me if I am reminding you, I find it is an inescapable trait of mine._

_I have a favor to ask of you. The moment you set foot at Hogwarts, I hope that you will try to 'mingle' with the normal students of the school. It would be rather odd if you kept to yourself for a whole year. Besides, demon though you may be, I think you will be rather lonely without anyone of your...physical age to get along with. _(Lonely? Ciel thought, scoffing)_ Though, I do hope you let no one know what you really are. I imagine that the panic should students discover your true identity will be as great as Lord Voldemort suddenly appearing in the middle of the Great Hall during a good lunch._

_Now, on to another part of this time-consuming letter. Earl Phantomhive, I hope you will not mind if ask another favor? I have reflected on this the whole night, weighing, as muggles say, the pros and cons of this decision. The pros outweigh the cons by a mere point—_

There was an abrupt knock on the door and a moment later, Sebastian walked in, bearing a stack of papers in his hand. "Pardon the intrusion, my lord, but the company has sent over a few papers that you need to look into," the butler said, approaching the desk.

"This letter is far more interesting," Ciel said. The young lord was actually chuckling. "Here, Sebastian, read it."

Sebastian effortlessly caught the tossed letter in one hand, balancing the stack of papers in the other. _A _few_ papers, eh?_ Ciel thought.

The Black Butler raised an eyebrow at the letter. It was from his master's...master. He allowed himself an internal chuckle at the thought. As he perused the letter, his amusement grew.

Really...Albus Dumbledore was a queer old man. Even for a wizard. Imagine asking for such a favor, despite knowing full well what they were.

"Rather ironic, I think," Ciel said as he leaned his elbows against his ornate oak desk. He glanced at Sebastian over his interlocked fingers, the amused smile still on his face. "Sebastian, as my servant and as per our contract, everything you have belongs to me."

Sebastian smiled as he set the stack of papers on the desk. "Of course, Young Master. Everything from my very soul to my legion of demons belongs to you," Sebastian concurred.

"The same rule applies to my contract with Dumbledore." Ciel inwardly frowned at that. He detested sharing his toys with anyone, master or not. "Therefore, you are to follow his wishes. Understood?"

Sebastian bowed, placing a hand against his chest. "Yes, my lord."

**. . .**

Harry Potter stood at the edge of a long corridor.

Shadows from torches on the wall danced and flickered against the damp walls. On either side of him, formidable black doors loomed like sentinels. A light mist wrapped around the place, blurring the sharp edges of the doors, blurring the flames from the torches...Blurring his very sense of reality.

Something was not right about the place. Something in the place made him want to run fast. Something in the corridor made the blood in his veins run cold, and it wasn't because of the primal fear of being injured or even killed.

It was something much worse.

_What fate is worse than death?_

The high pitched, cold voice seemed to reverberate through the light mist, echoing on the damp stone walls. Harry Potter ran. He ran down the length of the long corridor, his lungs and scar burning as the familiar rush of adrenaline kicked in.

Was it just him, or did this corridor seemed to go on and on?

_Your fate is death, Harry Potter._

At last! He suddenly came to a stop in front of a door, larger than the others. Instinct told him to push against the door, to open it. He would be safe.

The door swung open.

His eyes widened in surprise when he found himself standing at the threshold of darkness. In the middle of this darkness, the figure of an old man with a sweeping silver beard hovered, looking at him with a look so devoid of hope that Harry felt like throwing himself over the edge and into that unfathomable darkness.

"Harry."

"Professor...Dumbledore," Harry panted.

Dumbledore smiled at him. A pair of pale hands suddenly shot out from the darkness surrounding Dumbledore, grasping him by the shoulders.

"Professor!" Harry screamed. His senses were numb with fear as Dumbledore smiled at him.

The hands suddenly pulled Dumbledore into the darkness. A pair of glowing red eyes took the old wizard's place, the slitted pupils gazing on Harry with a look almost akin to a feral hunger. Beneath the red eyes, a mouth appeared and smiled a Cheshire cat smile, sharp pointed teeth white against the black darkness.

_What fate is worse than death?_

The voice was not high pitched and cold.

**. . .**

"Harry!"

Harry's eyes flew open. He was breathing heavily, his heart thundering in his chest. Beads of cold sweat appeared on his forehead.

"Harry, what on earth happened?" Ron asked. He was standing over Harry's bed, a hand on Harry's shoulder. Ron, it seemed, had woken him.

"Ron," Harry mumbled as he sat up. "Nothing, it was just—"

"A dream?" Ron continued, raising an eyebrow. He looked a bit pale, Harry noted. "Harry, what kind of dream has you screaming like bloody hell in the middle of the bloody night?"

Harry intertwined his fingers, frowning. Dumbledore had been in his dream, had been pulled into darkness by a pair of pale hands and a pair of glowing red eyes. He'd heard Voldemort but, for once, it wasn't Voldemort's cold voice that sent shivers up Harry's spine.

It was that _other_ voice.

"I think you should tell Dumbledore about these dreams, Harry," Ron was saying, snapping Harry from his inner musings. "I mean, if You-Know-Who's intentionally sending you these dreams, then Dumbledore should know about them."

Harry shook his head. "They're just dreams, mate," he said.

"This is the third time this week that you've been screaming in your sleep," Ron said. He sat at the edge of Harry's bed and frowned. "What was it about?"

Harry hesitated then sighed. "I dreamed about Dumbledore being pulled into darkness by a pair of hands," Harry admitted. "And a pair of glowing red eyes." He decided to omit Voldemort's voice—it would only send Ron into a panic attack.

Ron shook his head. "I don't get it...What d'you think it means?"

"You're starting to sound like Trelawney," Harry pointed out.

Ron flushed, his cheeks as red as his hair. "Shut up," he said, punching Harry's shoulder.

Harry chuckled. "It's nothing to worry about, Ron," he reassured him. "Maybe I'm just feeling tired these past few days. After all, three days from now, we're back on platform nine and three quarters."

Ron didn't look convinced.

**. . .**

"Common humans and wizards hardly differ from one another," Sebastian said as he and Ciel made their way through King's Cross station.

Ciel was dressed in a gray button up shirt with a black neck tie and black slacks. Sebastian had purposefully dressed him in 'commoner's clothing' so as to blend in with the crowd of both wizards and muggles. Sebastian himself was dressed in a white shirt, over which he wore a black sweater and a pair of black slacks. He was also pushing two trolleys, one in each hand (this earned him a considerable amount of stares from the muggles. _The show-off_, thought Ciel).

Ciel stopped in his tracks, his eyes sweeping the crowd of humans rushing past him to get to their desired trains. He glanced behind his shoulder, at Sebastian. "Hardly differ?" the young Earl echoed. "Oh? That makes them both boring then."

"On the contraire," Sebastian said. "To you, perhaps, humans are boring seeing as you were human yourself once. To one such as I, however, humans are—and always will be—both entertaining and delectable."

Ciel scoffed and resumed walking. His right eye was still covered by his eyepatch. His other eye was busy scanning the platforms for platform nine and three quarters. He raised an eyebrow. There was no such platform. He led Sebastian over to the departure board, where a list of scheduled trains flashed. Still no platform nine and three quarters. He inwardly huffed in frustration.

Behind him, he could feel Sebastian's suppressed amusement.

"Sebastian, get me to platform nine and three quarters _now_," Ciel ordered. He tried to hide the irritation that would further fan Sebastian's spark of amusement.

"This way then, my lord," Sebastian said, smiling an insincere smile.

Ciel frowned as Sebastian led the way past jostling crowds and towards platforms nine and ten. They stopped between the platforms. Sebastian turned and smiled at his master. Ciel could almost picture him saying "Ta-da!", what with that amused and phony smile he wore.

"Well?" Ciel snapped.

"This, young master, is platform nine and three quarters," Sebastian said, standing aside so his master could see the solid brick wall between platforms nine and ten.

"Do you take me for an imbecile, Sebastian?" Ciel said, narrowing his sapphire eye at the butler.

To his frustration, the idiot only smiled. "Young Master," he said, standing beside Ciel. He lowered his voice. "As a demon, your senses are a thousand times more accurate than when you were human. Can you not sense anything rather odd about this particular brick wall?"

Ciel looked up, glaring at him. He frowned as he directed his glare at the brick wall before him. He drowned out the mundane sound of muggles rushing past them to get at platforms nine and ten. He drowned out their annoying chatter, their stifling aura, his eyes and senses focusing only on the wall.

And then he saw it—a well-hidden magical aura emitting from the seemingly mundane wall. The aura was so subtle that he wondered how Sebastian could have found it. But then again, Sebastian was more experienced than he was by about...several millennia. Or maybe even more.

"I can see it, but that doesn't mean it's what we're looking for," Ciel said, giving Sebastian an annoyed look.

The butler only smiled as he wheeled both trolleys in front of Ciel. "Young master, kindly do observe," Sebastian said as he turned to face the wall.

"You didn't have to tell me," Ciel scoffed.

To his surprise, Sebastian ran towards the wall, trolleys squealing loudly as he pushed them forward. Ciel's eye widened in surprise. _He'll create a scene if he hits that wall!_ he thought. And the scene was that Sebastian would be in one piece—and the wall wouldn't.

Before he could decide whether or not to order the butler to stop, Sebastian hit the wall...and vanished. Ciel blinked. He blinked again, as though doubtful of his demonic eyes before he shook his head. Ciel Phantomhive _never_ doubted himself.

Ciel glanced around to make sure no muggles were looking before he, too, ran towards the wall. If he had been human, he would have closed his eyes. But he wasn't human—it was the silly wall that would be damaged, not him. As though to prove his point, his speed picked up just as he was about to smash into the wall.

He went through. It was as though he merely passed through an illusion. The moment he went through, he stopped, his eyes taking in everything around him.

Platform nine and three quarters was both lively and noisy. What caught his eye first was the scarlet Hogwarts Express, puffs of smoke billowing around it. Wherever he looked, Ciel could see nothing but torrents of wizards and witches, all of different ages. Some of them were sporting muggle clothing, others—the older students—were already wearing their black robes. The platform was filled with noise. Students chattered to each other excitedly about their summer and some, in hushed voices, talked about the situation with You-Know-Who (whoever that was). The loud of talk of the students was second only to the loud screeching of animals, the pets that students were allowed to bring with them—cats, owls, toads...

Cats?

Ciel blinked. He was no longer allergic to cats, but it was safe to say that his dislike of them remained. Speaking of cats...

Sebastian was busy talking to a pretty brunette, while he held her furry white cat in both his arms. On first glance, it _seemed_ as though Sebastian was talking to the girl, but he was actually talking to the cat as he stroked its fur. The girl didn't seem to notice that the butler was ignoring her, because she was busy staring at the butler, a blush in her cheeks.

Ciel didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed. The idiot had even abandoned their trolleys! He was about to call out to his butler, but he remembered his master's request. Pretence was most essential if he was to follow Dumbledore's orders.

"Sebastian," he whispered quietly.

From across the crowded platform, the butler automatically looked up and gave his master an apologetic smile. Ciel glared at him as he returned the cat to the girl and made his way towards him. Several girls turned to stare at Sebastian and whisper among themselves. Ciel was sorely tempted to rub his temples. It was the same problem everywhere they went.

"Young Master, forgive me. That creature was most beauteous to behold," Sebastian said, a hand on his chest. "As well as captivating."

Ciel scoffed. "Go find me a compartment," he said as he walked to a corner, away from the rambunctious crowd of wizards and witches. He leaned against the wall, his eye taking in the whole scene before him.

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian said, vanishing a moment later.

**. . .**

"Hurry up, or you'll miss the train!" Molly Weasley said as she herded Harry, Ron, Hermione, the twins and Ginny through the crowd of students. Tonks, Moody, Lupin and Sirius the dog were following close behind them. "Oh, I told you lot to pack what you needed the night before!"

"We're not late, Mum," Ginny reassured her. "Look, there are still students off the train, and the whistle hasn't even blown yet."

"But all the compartments will be taken by then!" Mrs. Weasley protested. She had Harry by the arm and was rushing through the crowd with dexterous speed.

Harry suddenly felt something warm against his hand. He looked down. Sirius was looking up at him. Harry knew him well enough to know that, had he been human, Sirius would have been barking with laughter at the flustered Molly (how rare it was for her to be _this_ flustered. Sirius found it rather refreshing).

They reached the train and Lupin and the others helped them get their trolleys on. Harry stepped back. Sirius was giving him a look.

"I promise I won't do anything stupid," Harry reassured his godfather.

Sirius let out a low growl, and Harry chuckled, stooping to pat him. "No loopholes," Harry promised. Sirius nodded his black shaggy head then, to Harry's surprise, he stood on his hind legs and placed a paw against Harry's chest.

"Siri—Snuffles!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, catching sight of him. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper. "Get down! Do try to act more like a _dog_!"

Sirius complied with a huff, and Harry chuckled at the flustered expression his godfather wore.

"Cool dog, Harry."

Harry looked up. A girl with dark eyes and long dark hair was smiling at him. She seemed to be a fourth year.

"Thanks," Harry said, returning her smile.

She held out her hand. "I'm Romilda," she announced. "Romilda Vane."

He took her hand and shook it. "Harry Potter," he said.

She chuckled, still not releasing his hand. "Oh, you needn't introduce yourself," she said. "Everyone knows who you are. You're the Chosen One."

Harry inwardly groaned. The Daily Prophet liked spewing out nonsense every now and then. "I'll see you on board then," Romilda said as she turned and left.

Sirius let out a small bark. Harry looked down at him. "What?" he said. He didn't need to ask. He could see the laughter in Sirius's eyes.

"Harry, come up on the train!" Hermione called out. She was holding Crookshanks in her arms.

Harry nodded. "Bye, Snuffles," he said as he got on board. As he glanced back towards Sirius, he blinked.

Across the sea of faces, leaning comfortably against a brick wall, was a young boy probably no older than thirteen or fourteen. His arms were folded across his chest, and he was looking at Harry with a solitary blue eye, the other being covered by an eyepatch. He had only seen him a couple of times, but he had no trouble recognizing him whatsoever.

"Phantomhive," Harry muttered. He blinked and the boy suddenly vanished.

"What was that, Harry?" A hand suddenly clasped his shoulder. Lupin.

"I saw Phantomhive again," Harry said as he glanced around the crowd. The young earl was nowhere to be seen. Was he seeing things?

Lupin narrowed his eyes as he, too, glanced around. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice lower than a whisper.

Harry nodded. "Remus?" They both turned to Tonks. "I found them a compartment at the end of the train. I'm sorry to say it wasn't wholly empty."

"That's fine, thanks," Harry said.

"Remember, some of the members of the Order will be at Hogwarts soon," Lupin reminded him.

Harry sighed. "Remus...I don't think it's really important that some of the members of the Order go to Hogwarts," he said. The truth was, all this protection stuff was starting to get to him. It made him feel like a child. "It would be better if they focused more on"—he glanced around and lowered his voice—"Voldemort."

Remus frowned. "These are dark times, Harry," he said quietly. Placing a hand on Harry's shoulder, he led him down a corridor and stopped. "We can't deny it—the Death Eaters are getting bolder, stronger. Dumbledore acknowledges this. He reckons that it's only a matter of time before Voldemort himself comes out into the open."

Harry frowned but said nothing. "The enchantments around Hogwarts are more than enough," he said firmly.

Remus smiled. "Ah, you mean the very same enchantments that were supposed to keep out the infamous Sirius Black?" he said, amused.

Harry couldn't help but chuckle. "Just be careful, Harry," Remus said as he ruffled Harry's hair.

Harry watched as Remus and Tonks alighted from the train. "Harry?" Another hand on his shoulder. Hermione. He turned to see her, Ron, Ginny and the twins waiting for him. "C'mon. The train's leaving soon."

He nodded as he followed them down the corridor, towards the end of the train. "Tonks mentioned there was someone else the compartment," Harry said.

Hermione shrugged. "We haven't really been in yet," she said. "We waited for you." She let go of Crookshanks who led the way towards the compartment.

"Whatever," Fred muttered as he slid the compartment door open. "I'm tired. I hope the witch with the trolley comes soon, I'm starving."

The compartment was not empty. Sitting near the window, was a young boy with bluish-black hair. He was facing the window, his elbow leaning against the armrest, and his chin resting in the palm of his hand. Harry could make out his reflection in the glass—the single sapphire-blue eye, the haughty and bored expression...and the black eyepatch.

His eyes widened in surprise. What was _he_ doing here?

The boy suddenly caught sight of their reflection in the window. He turned to them. Harry could practically feel Hermione and Ron's eyes bug out in surprise. They weren't the only ones. The moment Crookshanks caught sight of him, the cat immediately darted behind Hermione's legs.

"Ciel Phantomhive," Harry said.

"You know him?" Ginny asked.

"We met once," Harry said as he stepped into the compartment. Ciel Phantomhive kept his eye on him, obviously appraising him. "Or may be more than once, depending which way you look at it."

Ciel's mouth twitched with humor. "Harry Potter, I presume?" he said. His voice was well-mannered, cultured—the voice of a nobleman.

"You're that kid in the alley!" Ron suddenly said.

Ciel raised an eyebrow. He did not answer Ron. "Well, come in," Ciel said, gesturing to the empty seats. "I'm not going to eat you." He chuckled with humor.

Harry sat down beside the seat across from Ciel, Hermione sitting next to him, Crookshanks on her lap. Fred, George and Ginny sat across them, Ginny sitting next to Ciel. Ron took the seat across from Ciel. Ciel Phantomhive stared warily at Crookshanks, and the cat stared back.

An awkward silence ensued. The train began moving and Ciel resumed staring out the window. Ginny glanced at Harry then at the young boy beside her. She cleared her throat.

"So," Ginny began. "I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves yet." Ciel turned to look at her. "I'm Ginny Weasley. These are my brothers Fred, George and Ron. That's Harry Potter and Hermoine Granger." She gestured to each one in turn.

Ciel tilted his head in acknowledgement. "I'm Ciel Phantomhive."

"You're that kid we saw in the alley!" Ron blurted again.

Ciel turned his one blue eye towards him. "I don't remember you," the boy said rather coolly.

Ron flushed.

Harry looked at him. The boy was hiding something, he could feel it. "So...aren't you the Earl of Phantomhive?" he asked.

"Earl?" Fred asked. "Wow, mate, that's cool."

"That's like royalty, that," George put in.

"No, you idiot, it's more like nobility!" Fred snapped.

"There's hardly any difference, you twit."

"So, what year are you, Ciel?" Ginny said loudly, interrupting her brothers' debate. "You seem to be a little too old for a first year."

"Third," Ciel answered promptly. "I've never been to Hogwarts for my first and second year."

"Nobles and royals are different, Fred! Where, in the name of Merlin's cap, did your brains go?" George said sarcastically.

"Maybe they went here, you moron!" Fred said as he pretended to hit George on the head.

"Oh yeah? Maybe they went here!" George said, pinching Fred's nose.

"What's an Earl doing at Hogwarts?" Hermione said loudly, interrupting the twins' banter.

Ciel turned an amused eye from Fred and George to Hermione. He and Sebastian had already concocted a story for this. "My mother was a witch," he said slowly. "She married my father, the Earl, but failed to tell him what she was. When he found out, he was adamant that no son of his—especially the heir to the Earldom—would prance about wielding sticks and spewing nonsense."

"However, two years ago, my magic began to manifest. My mother asked my father to have a friend of hers come and, shall we say, 'home school' me in the magical arts. My father agreed, and a tutor was provided for me, the son of a friend of my mother's. Up until this year, he taught me magic, taught me to control my powers. This year, I am starting Hogwarts."

"Did your father agree?" Ron asked.

Ciel's blue eye seemed to flash. "He's dead—that's why I inherited the Earldom at my age."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ron said quickly. "I didn't realize." Unlike Harry and Hermione, he wasn't well-versed with what went on in the muggle world.

An uncomfortable silence soon fell on them again. Ciel resumed to staring out the window. Hermione was closing her eyes, and Ron was leaning his head against the compartment wall, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Fred and George were silently debating whether or not an Earl equalled to a prince and Ginny listened to them.

Harry surreptitiously scrutinized Ciel. How could he deny ever having met them in that dark alley? Was he deliberately pretending, or maybe didn't even remember? No. He would have remembered. He was just denying it—and Harry would find out why.

"Where's your butler?" Harry suddenly asked him. Doubtless, asking about one's butler was rather pointless, seeing as how insignificant a butler's presence at Hogwarts was. But there was something about the young Earl and his butler, a bond of sorts. Harry had a feeling that the butler—Sebastian, was it?—was more like a shadow than a servant.

Ciel's solitary eye snapped to him. Hermione's own eyes opened and fixed themselves on Ciel. Ron glanced at the young Earl, as did Fred, George and Ginny.

"My butler was the tutor I had," Ciel said. "When I resolved to attend Hogwarts, there was no more use for him. He found another job elsewhere."

Harry nodded. He wanted to ask more...so many questions were buzzing in his head, waiting to be answered. But he knew that Ciel was like an oyster. He had to approach carefully, or the young Earl would snap close.

"You mentioned your father, but what about your mum?" Ginny asked.

Ciel turned to stare out the window, at the darkening sky. Rain would be lashing down soon. "Both my parents died last year," he said calmly. A little too calmly. Sebastian was right—he needed to work on his acting (yet again, he wouldn't dare admit this aloud).

Ginny's eyes widened, her mouth making a little 'o' of surprise. Before another uncomfortable silence could fall on them again, the compartment door suddenly slid open and a girl with waist-length dirty blonde hair and silvery grey eyes walked into the compartment. If Harry didn't know her any better, he would have thought, judging from her dreamy expression, that she had walked in by accident.

"Luna!" everyone, except Ciel, chimed up.

Luna smiled at them. "Hello, everyone," she said. "I was looking around for a wrackspurt—I felt one in our compartment—when I heard Fred and George bickering in here."

"Ah, hello, Swoony, Loony, Luna!" George said pleasantly as he got up and draped an arm across Luna's shoulders. "We missed you, we have."

"Hello, Gred," Luna said amicably. "And hello, Forge." She smiled at Fred.

"Luna," Harry said as she sat down beside Ginny, next to Ciel. "How have you been doing?" He had to admit, he felt a certain fondness for Luna ever since their meetings in Dumbledore's Army.

She shrugged. "I've been doing quite alright," she said, her voice dreamy. "My father's been doing an article on the Umgubuluar Slashkilter and how Fudge uses them to his advantage."

Harry, who had more than his fair share of the Quibbler, thought it best not to ask.

"The what?" another voice asked.

Everyone, except Luna, turned surprised eyes towards Ciel Phantomhive, whose eye was fixed on Luna with curious interest.

"Oh, hello," Luna greeted. "I haven't seen you around here. Are you new?"

"This is Ciel Phantomhive, Luna," Ginny introduced. "He's just come to Hogwarts for his third year."

The girl tilted her head. "Hello, Ciel," she greeted. She suddenly squinted at him. "What's wrong with your other eye?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. He had never asked himself the reason for Ciel Phantomhive's eyepatch before. Ciel, on the other hand, let out a small breath. "I got into an accident when I was a child," he said, shrugging.

"You can have it fixed up at St. Mungo's, you know," Luna told him. "If you've lost an eye, I hear they can grow it back for you—or they can give you a new one, from another animal, such as a Jouleker. They have beautiful eyes, you know. They change color with your moods."

"You'll have to excuse Luna," Hermione said, laughing nervously. "She can be a bit funny at times." Luna raised an eyebrow at her.

"Nah, she's not funny," Fred said. "She's loony Luna."

"Fred!" Ginny snapped.

Luna only continued to smile, as though an interesting Quidditch game was playing. "By the way, Harry," Luna said, turning to him. "The girls in our compartment asked me what sort of food you liked to eat for every holiday of the year."

Harry blinked. "Really?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Luna nodded. "It's not surprising, really," she said. "Considering all this 'Chosen One' talk, it's only natural that people will start to like you even more."

"Chosen One?" Ciel asked, fully turning to them. Of course, he knew what it was all about. But pretence was key in this situation.

"Harry's the Chosen One," Luna said, smiling at him. "Everyone knows that only he can defeat You-Know-Who."

"That's not true, you know," Harry muttered. "All that Chosen One rubbish."

"It's not rubbish, mate," George said. "It's absolute garbage."

They laughed, with the exception of Ciel. "Rubbish...garbage!" Luna said, guffawing. She was actually clutching her midriff. "So...funny!"

The door to the compartment suddenly slid open, and a boy with pale blond hair and grey eyes stepped, flanked on both sides by two burly, apelike boys.

The moment the boy stepped in, everyone—even Luna—fell silent. The atmosphere tensed, as though a fight was about to break out. Even Ciel Phantomhive turned his eye to the newcomer with evident interest.

"Malfoy," Harry said coolly.

Malfoy's pale face automatically turned to Harry. His grey eyes narrowed. "I'm surprised to see you still in one piece, Potter," he sneered. "Word is your precious Order...slipped up during the summer."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not surprised you know about the Death Eaters," Harry said quietly. The atmosphere tensed tenfold. "Tell me...did Aunt Bellatrix get in trouble with her precious Dark Lord?"

Malfoy took a step towards Harry, as did Crabbe and Goyle. Harry stood, as did Ron, Hermione, Fred and George. Both Ginny and Luna's hands were in their pockets, clutching their wands.

"Can you feel it, Potter?" Malfoy said, eyes cold. "All around you. There are signs. It's only a matter of time before the Dark Lord himself announces his presence to the whole world. Even to the muggles."

"Shove off, Malfoy!" Ron snapped. His hand immediately dove into the pocket of his jeans, but before he could even grasp his wand, Malfoy had his pointed at Ron's face.

The effect was instantaneous. Harry's wand was in his hand and pointed at Malfoy. Crookshanks was hissing as Hermione, Luna and Ginny had their wands on Grabbe and Goyle. "Feeling brave, Malfoy?" Harry said coldly. "Of course you would—you've got little Death Eater friends to back you up, don't you?"

Malfoy smirked. "You'd love to know, wouldn't you, Potter?" he said quietly.

"Get out, Malfoy," Hermione snapped. "You wouldn't want to cause trouble now, would you? Term hasn't even started yet."

Malfoy turned his malicious eyes to her. "Mudbloods don't have the right to talk to a pureblood," he hissed.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "You'll pay for that!" Harry snarled. "_Expelliar-!"_

"Enough."

Harry blinked in surprise. Ciel Phantomhive stood from his seat and turned to face them, a scowl on his face. "What an annoying ruckus. If you want to fight, take it elsewhere," the earl said.

Malfoy turned his grey eyes to him. "Potter," he said. "I can barely keep up with the mudbloods you keep behind you."

Ciel narrowed his eyes at him. Oh, he wanted to teach the brat a lesson, but he found it impossible to do so without blowing his cover (how did Sebastian manage to scare people without revealing his demonic nature?).

"Is that the only thing to commend you?" Ciel sneered. "Your blood?" He chuckled. "If you ask me, it would be best if you swap your _pureblood_ for a brain."

Harry and the others laughed, while Malfoy's glare became more menacing. "I'd watch your steps if I were you, _little boy_," Draco said, glaring down at Ciel from his height. His wand nearly touched Ciel's forehead. "If you don't, you might just...trip."

Ciel glared.

"Anything from the trolley?" A loud voice said, accompanied from the familiar creaking of wheels from a trolley.

Malfoy immediately stowed his wand away just as the witch with the trolley appeared at the open compartment door. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" the witch asked.

Malfoy glared at them before turning towards the door. "Come on," he said to Crabbe and Goyle. The witch smiled expectantly at them and Harry quickly shook his head. She closed the door to the compartment as she left.

Ciel narrowed his eyes as he watched Malfoy leave. "Who was that?" he asked. He turned to Harry and the others.

"That was the witch with the trolley," Fred said darkly. Ginny rolled her eyes as she hit him on the shoulder.

"That was Draco Malfoy," Luna chimed in.

Hermione turned to Ciel. "You shouldn't have egged him on," she said. "Malfoy always remembers a grudge."

Ciel scoffed as everyone sat down. "I don't see a reason to be afraid of him," he declared.

Harry's expression darkened. "I have a feeling that he's mixed in with..." His voice trailed off and he glanced briefly at Ciel, who had resumed staring out the window. He shook his head.

Ciel stared at Harry's reflection in the glass, his blue eye narrowed slightly. Yes, Dumbledore had said that the boy had a knack for getting into trouble and, judging from the way he acted, Ciel had no doubt that this was the case.

He inwardly sighed as he resumed staring out the window, at the countryside that flashed by in a blur of green. His thoughts drifted to Dumbledore and the queer requests that the wizard had made of them. He frowned to himself. Truth be told, he had had no intention of serving someone like Dumbledore—in fact, he had no intention of serving someone else. Ever. However, it was Sebastian who had insisted that he contract the old man ("You are a demon, young master," the butler had said. "And yet, you still have quite a lot to learn.")

A lot to learn, eh? Well, he had all eternity. That was more than enough time to supplement what little knowledge he had. Again, he glanced at Harry's reflection. The boy was subdued, his thoughts obviously deep. Ciel Phantomhive allowed himself a little smirk.

_Let's see how far Dumbledore can bend Potter before he breaks_, he thought.

. . .

Aside from Malfoy's sudden appearance, the ride to Hogwarts was wholly uneventful. The witch with the trolley came by again and everyone—with the exception of Ciel—gorged themselves on the sweets the witch had to offer.

"Why don't you try a chocolate frog?" Hermione offered politely to Ciel. The boy had been nothing but quiet for the remainder of the ride. "You may not have had these yet."

Ciel glanced at her. "Chocolate...frog?" He raised an eyebrow. He held out his hand as his curiosity got the better of him.

Hermione smiled as she leaned over and deposited the small box into his hand. Everyone seemed to watch as Ciel slowly opened the box.

"Be careful with it," Luna warned.

Ciel untied the ribbon. His eyebrows shot up in surprise as the lid popped off and a literal chocolate frog hopped out of the box and onto his arm. "What the—?" he said.

The frog croaked and leapt onto his head. Harry and the others couldn't help but chuckle at the flustered expression the little nobleman wore.

Luna laughed as she reached over and retrieved the frog from the boy's head. "Here," she said, handing him the frog. "You eat the frog, not wear them on your head like a hat. It isn't like the Megelwilk, you know."

Ciel blinked at her as he held the frog in his hand. "The what?" he asked. This girl was...strange.

Luna beamed. "Megelwilks are very cute creatures. They look like a big round furry hat, and they sort of just sit atop a person's head for hours on end. Of course, the person can't notice because Megelwilks can become invisible. Daddy thinks they like sitting on a person's head, because it makes them feel superior and..."

Ciel let Luna go on as he turned his attention to the squirming chocolate frog in his hand. He lifted it to his lips and bit the head off. Instead of chocolate, he tasted nothing but ash, like he always did when he ate mortal food. For a moment, a pang of regret hit him in the face and he easily brushed it aside. Someone like him did not regret a step taken to achieve his goal.

He frowned as he ate the rest of the frog. It was then that he noticed a card in the box of the chocolate frog. The card had a picture on it. It was a man with a sweeping silver beard and half-moon glasses.

"Dumbledore," Ciel said quietly as Dumbledore's image smiled cheerfully up at him. He raised an eyebrow. "He moved."

"Pictures in the wizarding world always move. Blimey, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you lived under a rock," Ron said, raising an eyebrow at him. "Ah, you got Dumbledore? Keep him. You can collect more cards."

Ciel nodded as he flipped the card over. At the back was a short description of Dumbledore's achievements, including his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald. If Dumbledore could defeat a dark wizard, what could stop him from defeating Voldemort?

"We're almost there, I expect," Hermione announced as she stood up and peered out the window. "It's time to change."

**. . .**

It was nightfall by the time the train came to a full stop at Hogsmeade station. Harry, along with Ron and the others, made for the carriages that would take them to school. Though not a first year, Ciel had to take the traditional boat ride across the lake, along with the other first years.

Harry and the others joined the crowd of students that were waiting for the carriages. He glanced around the crowd, looking for any members of the Order that Remus had said would come. To his relief, he saw no one.

"Wotcher, Harry," a familiar voice said.

Harry and the others spun around. "Tonks!" Fred and George chorused.

Tonks grinned. Her hair today was long, curly and purple, her eyes a blue that rivalled Ciel Phantomhive's. "I'm your guard, Harry," she announced, grinning at him.

Harry grinned, trying to quell his disappointment at having a guard. "Just you, then?"

She nodded. "In a way," she said. "I'll be accompanying you up to Hogwarts. I'm staying in an inn in the village. In the morning, I'll be patrolling the school grounds. It won't always be me, though. Others members of the Order will take my place as guard."

The carriages pulled up, drawn by the Thestrals seen only by a few students. Luna, Fred, George and Ginny took one carriage, while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Tonks took another.

"So, what do you lot make of Ciel Phantomhive?" Ron suddenly asked once they had gotten settled and the carriages began moving.

"Ciel Phantomhive?" Tonks said, frowning. "He's here?"

"Yeah," Harry said, narrowing his eyes at her. "You know him?"

Tonks shook her head. "Not...really," she said, her voice trailing off.

Harry, Ron and Hermione glanced at one another. It was blatantly obvious that Tonks knew something. "What do you know about him?" Harry asked.

Tonks huffed. "I said I didn't know him," she said, leaning back in her seat and folding her arms. They gave her an almost McGonagall-like look. "Oh, fine!" she said, sighing. "I overheard Dumbledore mention that some muggle nobleman would be attending Hogwarts this year. That's all."

Harry leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh. He could not shake the feeling that the Order was hiding something from him.

**. . . **

"First years, this way!" Ciel barely heard the stern-faced witch's words as he followed behind the other first years towards the entrance hall. The first years had given him strange looks, not only for the fact that he looked older than them, but also because of his eyepatch. For a brief instant, he wondered if contact lenses could hide the contract mark in his eye.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he noticed the stern-faced witch glance around at them. Her eyes seemed to linger on him for a moment before she spoke.

"My name is Professor McGonagall," she said. "In a few moments' time, you will be sorted in your Houses. Now, during your stay at Hogwarts, your House will be like your family. Achievements will earn you points for your respective Houses. Any rule breaking and you will lose House points." She paused for a moment, her eyes lingering on Ciel. "Kindly wait here for a moment."

Ciel watched as McGonagall left the chamber through a door on the right. The loud buzzing noise of a hundred students wafted into the chamber from the door she had left. He turned his attention to the group of first years. They were now chattering excitedly, wondering which House they would be sorted into.

"I'm sure I'll be in Gryffindor," a boy was saying. "My family's been in it for generations."

"I'll run out the door if I get sorted into Slytherin," a girl was saying.

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" another girl said to the first. There was contempt in her voice. "My family has been in Slytherin since the time of the great Salazar Slytherin himself."

"Oh, that says a lot," the first girl said, rolling her eyes.

Before the Slytherin-girl could answer, a voice suddenly rang throughout the chamber. "What do weeee have heeere?"

The first years gasped as they pointed upward. A little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth was hovering above them. He wore a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie and was blowing a loud, wet raspberry. In his hands, he held bits of crumpled and soggy parchment.

Ciel frowned. This little man was, if he was not mistaken, a poltergeist. Easy enough to deal with—if he was being demonic, that is. Under the guise of a student ignorant of the wizarding world, however...

"Itsy, bitsy, ickle firsties!" the poltergeist said gleefully. "Oh, won't this be fun?" He began dropping the soggy balls of parchment on the first years. Girl screamed as the soggy bits of paper fell on their hair and face. Boys tried swatting away the bits of paper with their arms, screaming louder than the girls.

"Hahahaha!" the poltergeist said as he swooped down. He dumped the entire stack of paper onto an unsuspecting girl, who screamed louder than a banshee.

The cackling spirit placed both hands on his heaving belly as he laughed at the mayhem he had caused. He looked down at them, and the first years took several steps back, afraid of what he might throw next. His eyebrows rose in surprise when his dark eyes landed on Ciel.

"Oooh!" the potergeist said as he darted down towards the boy. The first years gasped as they parted like the Red Sea to let him pass.

Ciel frowned as the mischievous spirit stopped, hovering just in front of him. "What do we have here?" he said, cackling. "A little too old for a firstie, you are! And what does Peevesy see here?"

Before Ciel could blink, Peeves snatched his eyepatch. "Hey!" he snapped. He kept his other eye closed as he made a lunge for his eyepatch. Admittedly, Peeves had been quick. Ciel inwardly scowled, as he imagined Sebastian's snide laughter at his lack of speed.

"What's wrong with your eye, ickle firstie?" Peeves said tauntingly, false concern in his voice. As Ciel tried to reach him, he floated higher into the air, cackling madly.

Ciel glared up at him. He could jump up, but Peeves was almost twenty feet above ground—an impossible jump for a _human_. "Give it back," Ciel said, his voice low, almost deadly.

"Come and get it, little firstie!" Peeves taunted, waving his eyepatch high above him. "Itsy bitsy firstie wants something from Peevesy!"

Before Ciel could lose his temper, a voice cut through the entrance hall.

"Peeves!"

The double doors to the right suddenly burst open and McGonagall strode out, her nostrils flaring. Beyond the double doors, Ciel could make out hundreds of students seated at long tables, before the two doors closed again.

McGonagall stood in front of them, her eyes narrowed up at the floating spirit. "Causing mayhem just before the sorting! You had best stop it, Peeves, otherwise I shall inform the Bloody Baron!"

Peeves's only answer was to blow a loud, wet raspberry before dropping Ciel's eyepatch. He caught it and tied it back on just as Peeves zoomed off. McGonagall watched him go before turning her attention back to them.

"That was Peeves," she announced. "He is the poltergeist of Hogwarts, and it would be prudent of you to avoid him. He only answers to the Bloody Baron." She turned her eyes to Ciel. "Has he stolen anything from you, Mr. Phantomhive?"

Ciel inwardly smirked. No doubt, Dumbledore told her about him. "He returned it, Professor," he reassured.

She nodded, as she turned to the other first years. "Kindly fall back into line and follow behind me. They are ready for you."

**. . .**

"Looks like Dumbledore couldn't find anyone this year," Harry said, his eyes surveying the staff table. He was seated between Ron and Hermione. McGonagall had just left to get the first years.

"For what?" Ron asked.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione said, her eyes on the staff table as well.

Ron shrugged. "The job's jinxed, remember?"

Hermione frowned. "This is bad. How are we supposed to prepare for our N.E.W.T.s?"

Before anyone could share her sentiments, the double doors opened and McGonagall walked in, followed by the first years. Harry could see Ciel Phantomhive sticking out like a sore thumb because of his height. McGonagall led them towards the staff table. She motioned for them to stop and she conjured a chair out of thin air. With another flick of her wand, the Sorting Hat appeared on the stool. A hushed silence fell across the Great Hall as a slit near the brim of the hat appeared, and it began to sing:

_A millennia or so ago,  
>When I was fresh and new,<br>There lived four great friends  
>Who were united through and through.<br>Shrewd Slytherin and bold Gryffindor  
>Quite the pair, indeed!<br>Each there for the other  
>When he was in need.<br>Fair Ravenclaw and sweet Hufflepuff,  
>Never far apart,<br>Always helping each other  
>With her clever mind and kindly heart.<br>The four friends shared a hope, a dream  
>To educate your sorcerers<br>Thus they hatched their scheme.  
>Said Gryffindor, "I shall teach those<br>Whose bravery runs deep."  
>Said Ravenclaw, "Those with keen<br>wits, I shall surely keep!"  
>Declared Slytherin, "I shall take those<br>Whose ancestry is purest."  
>Said Hufflepuff, "I shall aid those<br>whose diligence is surest!"  
>And so did they divide<br>Their favorites from the throng  
>Each never thinking<br>That something could go wrong.  
>Hush, listen to this old hat's tale<br>Of how the four thought  
>Their bond would never fail.<br>Said Slytherin one day,  
>"Take only those of pure blood<br>and keep the unclean at bay."  
>Countered Gryffindor,<br>"Are they not all the same?  
>Look at their skills, not at their name!"<br>Thus, the two friends fought,  
>and old Slytherin left one morn,<br>leaving everyone quite distraught.  
>Four friends whittled down to three,<br>Their sorrows witnessed by me.  
>As the centuries go by,<br>I continued my duty  
>Of sorting each of you lot.<br>Dividing potential bonds,  
>And stirring discord and strife!<br>But now's not the time for petty fights,  
>For our Hogwarts is in danger<br>And you have cause to fear for your very life.  
>Stand firm within,<br>And be the pillars that hold up our school.  
>But, for now, let the sorting begin.<em>

A deep hush followed the hat's song, and then a slow applause began to spread through the Great Hall. "It's the same message from last year," Harry muttered as he clapped with the rest.

Hermione nodded. "Be united, stand firm."

Ron huffed. "I don't fancy getting matey with the Slytherins," he said, throwing a look at the Slytherin table.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

McGonagall stood beside the hat, unrolled a sheet of parchment, and read the first name, "Aisler, Rachel!" she called out.

Harry and the others watched as a timid-looking girl stumbled towards the stool. She sat and McGonagall put the hat on her head. "Gryffindor!" the hat announced.

Harry clapped with the others. "Aster, Ian!"

"Slytherin!"

"Bentley, Edwin!"

"Hufflepuff!"

"Childer, Diana!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Detrex, Creusa!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Etherhart, Helen!"

"Gryffindor!"

Harry watched as the throng of first years diminished. He frowned in puzzlement as McGonagall called out "Porter, Mike!", without mentioning "Phantomhive".

The last of the first years were finally sorted, leaving Ciel standing in front of the stool. "Starting on his third year, we have Phantomhive, Ciel," Professor McGonagall announced.

_Finally_, Ciel thought as he ascended towards the stool. The last thing he saw before the hat's brim covered his vision were the curious looks of the students, some of whom stood up to get a good look at him.

He felt the hat shudder as it touched his head. _Ah_, the hat said, its voice echoing through his mind._ Earl Ciel Phantomhive, our noble guest._

_Get on with it,_ Ciel thought.

The hat chuckled. _Beings like you aren't normally accepted into Hogwarts, _it went on. _I have never met one of your kind before. I daresay, Godric Gryffindor himself would have loved to duel with someone of your ilk._

Ciel rolled his eyes.

The hat was silent for a moment. _Setting aside your...difference...I find your mind quite hard to place, Ciel Phantomhive. Your nature is power-hungry—you'd fit right well in Slytherin. But...I can sense a spark of something in you. Courage, compassion—virtues I'm surprised a demon like you would have._

_Your point?_ Ciel thought.

_Will you let this spark turn into a blaze, I wonder? Hm...highly unlikely. Would it be Slytherin, then?_

_Put me in Gryffindor, _Ciel thought. His master's orders were quite clear, and being in Gryffindor would make his role easier.

_You're the second Slytherin who asked to be put in Gryffindor, you know. Are you sure? You're the very antithesis of a true Gryffindor, you know. Well then, if you're quite determined..._

"Gryffindor!" the hat announced.

Ciel whipped the hat off his head as the Gryffindors burst into applause. He made his way towards the table, intent on sitting on the farthest edge, away from the other students, when the girl called Hermione scooted over to make room for him.

"Sit next to us, Ciel," she said politely. Harry and Ron stared at her.

Ciel nodded as he sat between her and Harry. Several of the Gryffindors glanced hesitantly at him before speaking up.

"Will you introduce us to your friend, Harry?" Lee Jordan, who was sitting next to the twins across the table, asked.

Harry nodded. "This is Ciel Phantomhive," he said. "Ciel, that's Lee Jordan. Next to him is Neville Longbottom."

Neville smiled timidly at the stern-faced Earl. "Hi," Neville said hesitantly. Ciel nodded in acknowledgement.

Was he shy, or just distant? Harry couldn't help but think Ciel's rather aloof aura would somehow ensure he had little friends. He pushed the thought from his mind as Dumbledore suddenly rose to his feet and a general hush fell throughout the Great Hall.

"To our first timers, welcome! To our old students, welcome back. I trust your brains are all nice and filled with cobwebs for this year," Dumbledore said, raising both his hands in the air. Ciel smirked at the sight of Dumbledore's gloved hands. "Before we proceed to our delectable feast, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, wishes me to inform you all to adhere to the school rules, which may be read in his office. I would explain them myself, but I am fully aware that your minds will be on your dinner."

"Lastly," Dumbledore went on. "I am...pleased to inform you"—Ciel didn't miss the almost unnoticeable trace of hesitation in the old man's voice and smiled slightly—"that I have managed, once again, to fill in the post of Defense of Against the Dark Arts."

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks, wondering who the unlucky witch/wizard was. Before they could ponder further, the double doors opened, and a young man strode into the Great Hall, his robes swirling around him as he walked (_How dramatic, _Ciel thought, scoffing).

Harry's eyes widened. Even though he had only seen him once, he had no trouble recognizing the pale complexion, the crimson eyes, and the messy dark hair. "But," Harry said, turning to Ciel. "Isn't...isn't he your butler? I mean, tutor?"

Ciel nodded as a slow smile crept on his lips. "I did tell you he found another job elsewhere," he said. He actually grinned—almost mischievously—at the identical flabbergasted expressions Harry, Ron and Hermione wore.

Harry watched as Sebastian Michaelis walked right up to the staff table. Sebastian turned around to face the students as Dumbledore spoke up again. "I would like to introduce you all to Professor Michaelis," he announced. "As you have no doubt guessed, he will be filling the vacant post for Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Look at Snape!" Ron said, with apparent glee. The Potions Master did not look the least bit pleased at losing a position he wanted to someone younger than him—and he didn't bother to hide it.

"I'm honored that Professor Dumbledore thought me competent enough to fill this post," Sebastian announced, a charming smile on his face.

Harry couldn't help but notice the vast majority of the female population listening rapturously to him—including Hermione. He caught her eye and he raised an eyebrow at her. She blushed, but continued listening anyway.

"As I am relatively new to Hogwarts, I do hope you lot will go easy on me," Sebastian went on, his crimson eyes flickering to the Gryffindor table—to where Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ciel were. The corner of his mouth twitched with amusement as he pulled his gaze away from them.

"That will be all," Sebastian said. "Thank you for enduring."

"Trust me, I wasn't enduring," Parvati Patil said to Lavender Brown. They both giggled.

Sebastian smiled again before he took a seat at the staff table, next to Snape. Harry frowned as he watched Snape saying something to Sebastian.

"At least our N.E.W.T.s won't have to suffer," Hermione muttered. "Since we've got a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, I mean."

"Well," Harry muttered to himself. "Sebastian Michaelis as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher." He suddenly remembered Sebastian's glowing, red eyes as he smiled at Bellatrix with an almost feral hunger. "Rather ironic, I think."

**. . .**

**I did promise you it would be long ;)**

**Anyway, what did you guys think of this chapter? I think it was a bit too rushed. I dunno, what do you lot think? Oh, and I'm sorry if the Sorting Hat song sounds rather...dull xD I'm not good when it comes to composing. Read and review, please! **


	4. That Butler, Learning

**IV**

**That Butler, Learning**

**. . . **

"_Hard studies all, that have cost me dear  
>And so I sit, poor silly man<br>No wiser now, than when I began!"  
><em>-Faust, Goethe's _Faust_, Part I

**. . .**

Ciel sat near one of the windows of the boys' dormitory, staring out at the inky black sky. The other third year boys had already fallen asleep, their snores echoing softly around him. He frowned. Demons like him did not need sleep, but it was a luxury he could afford. And luxuries were something that he often indulged in.

But tonight, he didn't feel like indulging in any luxury.

He stood up and threw a cloak over his pyjamas. It was already one in the morning, and everyone should be asleep by now. Silent like a shadow, he left the dormitory, headed down to the Common Room and out the portrait hole.

The dark corridors were deserted and silent, the only sound being the crackling of the fires in the torches. He listened quietly, confident that his demonic hearing would alert him to the presence of any human.

He made his way through the corridors, and down the changing staircases (the fact that they moved had amused him, but he didn't dare admit this out loud). He found himself in the entrance hall and presently heard footsteps fast approaching.

Ciel frowned and retreated into the shadows, blending into the darkness. The footsteps grew louder and presently, Sebastian came into view. _What was he doing out here?_ the young Earl wondered. He had not given Sebastian any instructions...but Dumbledore might have.

"My Lord," Sebastian said, his red eyes immediately snapping to the hidden Earl. "Let us not forget who taught you that little trick."

Ciel glared at him as he emerged from the shadows. The bastard. "Why are you wandering the halls?" Ciel demanded, a hand on his hip.

Sebastian smiled. "I sensed you roving about the castle," he admitted, "which is rather fortunate. It saves me the trouble of sneaking into Gryffindor tower."

Ciel frowned. "And why?"

The butler tilted his head at his master. "There is something I need to teach you, My Lord, before you start classes."

The demonic Earl crossed his arms and frowned at his butler. "Well, out with it."

Sebastian's smile widened. "You do realize, my Lord, that during your stay here, you are expected to perform magic..._human_ magic?"

Ciel scoffed. "Obviously."

"Well, my Lord," Sebastian went on. "This is highly impossible for the likes of us. Our brand of magic is far more _destructive_ than the humans'. After all, sire, it is a demon's nature to wreak as much havoc and chaos as possible."

Ciel was somehow reminded of a more dangerous version of Fred and George. "The point, Sebastian?" he said impatiently.

"As your butler and mentor, I shall teach you how to channel this destructive force into a more, shall we say, harmless form via a fake wand." The butler's smile made Ciel narrow his eyes. "After all, my Lord, we can't have you showing up for your lessons without a grain of magical know-how in you, now, can we?"

Ciel scowled at him. "How long will this take?"

"Oh, to an experienced demon, perhaps two or three nights," Sebastian said dismissively. "But, in your case, young Master, I would say about...several weeks to a month."

Ciel glared. "You bastard." He suspected (and he knew he was right on this) that Sebastian purposely withheld this from him so as to cause him humiliation.

"However, it may be necessary to practice away from Hogwarts," Sebastian mused, as though he had not heard Ciel. "What, with your inexperienced control, and your constant outbursts of frustration should you be unable to get anything right..." He trailed off and smiled at his Master, who looked as though he was about throttle the butler.

"Shut up—that's an order," Ciel snapped.

Sebastian smirked and placed a hand on his chest as he bowed to his master, neither sound nor word escaping him.

**. . .**

Harry stared up at the canopy of his four-poster. There were certain nights when sleep eluded him, and this was one of those nights. Come to think of it...did sleep elude him, or did _he_ elude _it_?

He closed his eyes. There were times when he found that he just didn't want to sleep—times when he wanted to evade the dreams he knew waited for him. And lately, he had every reason to avoid his dreams.

Yawning, Harry reached over to his bedside table for his glasses. He groped underneath his pillow for his wand.

"_Lumos,"_ he murmured. The wand tip immediately flared with light, casting shadows on the drawn curtains of his four-poster. He retrieved the Marauder's map from his trunk and spread it across the blankets, his brilliant green eyes intently scanning the blank piece of parchment.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping the parchment with his illuminated wand tip. Sometimes he found that perusing the Marauder's Map helped him sleep.

Lines of ink spread from the tip of his wand, like wiggling worms. They connected with one another to form a detailed map of the Hogwarts castle and grounds, along with their secret passages.

Harry lay back on the pillows, holding the map in front of his face with one hand, and keeping his wand in the other. His eyes settled on the small dot labelled 'Mrs. Norris', which was prowling along the fourth floor corridor. Another dot labelled 'Argus Filch' was skulking along the corridor to the entrance hall.

Harry quickly sat up.

Two dots labelled 'Ciel Phantomhive' and 'Sebastian Michaelis' lingered in the entrance hall. He glanced towards Ron's curtains, eager to tell him of this latest development, but the snoring coming from Ron's direction only told him that trying to wake Ron would be a waste of time.

Harry glanced back at the map, and rapidly blinked his eyes in disbelief. What were Ciel and Sebastian doing at this time of hour? As Harry continued staring, perplexed, the dot labelled 'Argus Filch' appeared in the entrance hall. Harry watched as Filch's dot made its way towards Ciel and Sebastian. To Harry's surprise, Filch's dot moved passed Sebastian and Ciel, moved passed the other two dots as though he hadn't seen them...

Harry frowned as he leaned back against his pillows. Had Filch already known that Ciel and Sebastian would be up? If not, then had the caretaker failed to see them? Remembering the way Filch's eyes bulged at the slightest whiff of mischief, Harry thought this highly unlikely...

He frowned as he watched the dots of Ciel and Sebastian step out of the great double oak doors. He narrowed his eyes. It looked as though they were headed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest...

Did Ciel get detention already? Harry couldn't think of any other reason for their trip into the Forest.

"Mischief managed," Harry whispered. The map suddenly went blank, as though its contents had been wiped clean.

Harry removed his glasses and pummelled his pillow, his thoughts dwelling on Ciel and Sebastian. He would tell Ron and Hermione about them tomorrow, he thought, as sleep finally came to him.

**. . .**

Ciel stepped out into the cold night air, the wind whipping his hair. Behind him, Sebastian carefully closed the great double oak doors of the entrance hall, restoring the broken security enchantments with his own magic. Ciel glared at him from over his shoulder.

"Where should we go, then?" the young Earl asked.

Sebastian nodded towards the Forbidden Forest to the east of the castle. The dark outline of the trees swayed ominously against the starry night sky. Without another word, both master and butler made for the forest, neither paying any mind to the flickering lights in the window of the gamekeeper's cabin.

"It's quiet," Ciel said as he Sebastian stepped into the shadows of the forest. He glanced around. Truth be told, he was hoping to catch a glimpse of a mythological creature come to life (he wouldn't dare admit this aloud), but it seemed as though luck was not on his side.

"Naturally," Sebastian said as he led his young master deeper into the forest. "Even magical creatures fear beings of our kind."

Ciel scoffed. "And here I thought I would finally be able to see chimeras and dragons."

"The forest does not house such creatures, Young Master," Seabstian said. They walked deeper into the forest, the leafy canopy above them thickening with each step they took. "If I recall what the gamekeeper told me, he made mention that the Forest is home to centaurs, acromantulas, and the like."

"Acromantulas?"

"Giant spiders," Sebastian said promptly.

They walked on for a few more minutes until they came to a clearing. The thick canopy above them prevented even the slightest ray of moonlight from illuminating the clearing. If it weren't for his demonic eyes, Ciel would have been blinded by the darkness.

"This area will do," Sebastian said, glancing about the field.

"And what exactly are we going to do?" Ciel demanded. He crossed his arms.

"I shall teach you how to channel your demonic magic into something a little more tame," Sebastian explained. "Be warned that, as you are highly inexperienced and very young for a demon, you maybe...a little slow in learning."

Ciel glared. "You bastard," the Earl hissed.

Sebastian gave him an insincere smile. "Well then, Young Master, shall we begin?"

Ciel's glare only intensified and Sebastian let out a chuckle. "The first thing you need to do, Young Master, is to feel your power," Sebastian instructed as he whipped out his tutor glasses and put them on.

The demonic Earl rolled his eyes. He had been _feeling_ his power for decades. "Next," Ciel said impatiently.

The butler raised an eyebrow. "You need to focus on being aware of the full extent of your power, Young Master," Sebastian warned. "Otherwise, you will have little control over the energy you will unleash."

"Next," Ciel repeated firmly.

Sebastian let out a sigh. "Visualize what 'shape' you want this energy to take," he instructed.

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "Be more specific."

"You are the one who needs to be specific on what you want your demonic energy to become," Sebastian said, as he paced around Ciel, hands clasped firmly behind his back. "Do you want to conjure something out of thin air, say, perhaps, a knife? Or do you want to launch a blast of demonic energy at an opponent?" Sebastian smiled again.

Ciel nodded. It sounded simple enough. He looked around the empty clearing, confident that no magical creature was going to intrude on his concentration. Glancing at the ground in front of him, Ciel narrowed his eyes and visualized a replica of himself (Sebastian had tried it once, as a prank, and he had not gotten over it).

Nothing happened.

Sebastian clicked his tongue. "Young master, you are so used to conjuring inconsequential objects worthy of the Weasley twins. Is it safe to presume you were trying to conjure something more complex this time?"

Ciel glared. "Shut up."

"Remember," Sebastian went on, as though he heard nothing. "If you were trying to create a replica of yourself, in an attempt to even the score with me"—Ciel raised his eyebrows—"I suggest we move on to simpler matters for now. Learning to mimic human magic is far easier than conjuring a sentient being."

"Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Ciel snapped.

"I was about to, before you saw fit to interrupt me with your brazen confidence," Sebastian said. Ciel hated the smile on his face.

Ciel fumed. "Right, then," he muttered. "Tell me everything I need to know."

"You can shape your magic to mimic human spells," Sebastian went on. He pulled out a long, black wand from within the folds of his robe. Ciel knew it to be a fake, like his, gotten on the day they had gone to Diagon Alley. "Observe, Young Master."

Sebastian held the wand in front of him, and said, "_Lumos!_"

The wand tip suddenly flared with light, illuminating the dark clearing around them. "You try," Sebastian said. "Remember, say the words and shape your magic."

Ciel took out his wand. "_Lumos!_" he said, focusing his magic, and willing it to shape into a point of light on his wand tip.

To Ciel's frustration, the wand tip sparked with light, which promptly faded away. "My, my," Sebastian said, sighing. "It seems that you need more practice, Young Master."

Ciel glared.

**. . .**

"Harry, are you absolutely positive?" Hermione asked for the third time that morning, her forkful of egg dripping quietly onto her plate

Harry let out a weary sigh. They were seated in the Great Hall for breakfast and, having made sure that no one could overhear them, he had just told Ron and Hermione about his midnight perusal of the Marauder's map.

"Yes, Hermione," Harry said. Glancing around, he lowered his voice and leaned across the table. "The dots were labelled 'Ciel Phantomhive', and 'Sebastian Michaelis'. I'm sure of it."

"But what could they be doing in the middle of the night?" Ron wondered aloud. "Why didn't you wake me, anyway?"

"You were snoring," Harry pointed out. "I doubt a troll could've woken you up."

Ron gave him a look. "Anyway," Hermione said, setting down her fork. "So Filch didn't see them?"

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I mean, his dot just moved past them. If he'd seen them, he would have at least stopped for a moment, wouldn't he?"

Hermione looked thoughtful. "But what if—"

"He knew they'd be there already?" Harry finished for her. "Let's say Filch knew. But why would Ciel and Sebastian be there in the first place? Ciel got into trouble already?"

Ron was about to say something, but Hermione cut him off. "I think Professor Michaelis is sort of just checking up on Ciel, is all," she said. "He was his tutor, the son of his mum's close friend...Almost like family, I think."

Ron raised his eyebrows. "And you think Sebastian Michaelis—"

"_Professor_ Michaelis, Ron," Hermione corrected.

Ron rolled his eyes. "And you think Professor Michaelis is carrying on as Ciel's big brother?" he said skeptically.

Hermione sighed. "I said he's sort of just _checking up_ on Ciel, not playing the big brother," she pointed out.

"Well, if you ask me," Ron began, and their regular early morning row began.

Harry sighed. Hermione did have a point. Maybe Sebastian was just looking after Ciel out of habit, like Hermione said? Harry took a bite out of his toast and chewed slowly, his thoughts swirling around Ciel and Sebastian. There was something off about them—especially about Sebastian. Though Ron and Hermione seemed to have put it out of their minds he, Harry, could not forget the way Sebastian's eyes had glowed red as he slowly removed a dagger that had been stabbed into his chest, right into his heart...

"Someone's had a bad morning," Dean suddenly commented.

Ron and Hermione stopped bickering just as Dean pointed with his chin towards the great double doors of the Entrance Hall. Ciel Phantomhive strode through the doors, his black eye-patch visible against his pale skin, a heavy frown on his face. Several students turned their heads to stare, but Ciel defiantly ignored them as he strode past the other three House tables.

"Think he'll sit with us?" Ron muttered in an undertone.

As though he heard him, Ciel's blue eye snapped in their direction. Harry was about to scoot over to make room, but Ciel turned and sat down at the far end of the table, away from the other students.

Hermione glared at Ron. "Nice," she commented scathingly.

"What?" Ron demanded. "What, in the name of Merlin's beard, have I done this early in the morning? I just said—"

"What you said doesn't matter—it's _how_ you said it!" Hermione snapped.

"_How_ I—"

"Don't play dumb, Ronald," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "You didn't sound very friendly, and I think Ciel heard you!"

"Heard me? Hermione, _heard _me?" Ron said, incredulous. "D'you realize he was right down the table? Not to mention the noise this lot makes in the morning..." He gestured to the students chattering about them.

Harry sighed as Ron and Hermione continued with their row. Taking a sip of his pumpkin juice, his eyes strayed to where Ciel was. Ciel took a bite of toast, grimaced and chewed. He didn't seem to be enjoying his breakfast. Then again, he didn't seem to be enjoying the morning much. Harry found himself wondering whether or not Ciel's late night encounter with Sebastian had something to do with the nobleman's sour expression.

Ciel's solitary blue eye suddenly snapped to him.

Harry blinked. Ciel grinned, his blue eye flashing into red. Harry blinked again. Ciel was no longer looking at him, but staring down moodily at his empty plate, his blue eye narrowed in scorn.

Harry frowned. Was he starting to imagine things?

"Look who's here," Parvati Patil suddenly said, giggling. She and Lavender Brown were both staring at the great double doors.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione whipped around in their seats just as Professor Michaelis entered the room, his black robes billowing about him in a way that would have made Snape envious. Harry had to hand it to him—he certainly knew how to make a dramatic entrance without even trying.

"Good morning," Sebastian said, smiling at several girls as he walked past the Ravenclaw table. The girls giggled, blushing furiously.

"Oy!" Ron said, snapping his two fingers in front of Hermione's face.

"What?" Hermione said, startled.

"Stop gawking at him!"

"I wasn't _gawking_ at him, Ron!" Hermione snapped, going scarlet.

"Then stop _drooling_ over him!" Ron said.

Hermione glared, took out her Ancient Runes book, and refused to speak to Ron. Harry turned his attention to Sebastian Michaelis. The young man walked up to the staff table, greeting his fellow teachers with a pleasant 'good morning'. Harry was amused to see Professor Sinistra and Professor Sprout blushing. Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling with amusement, while Snape only glared with unconcealed venom.

Ciel rolled his eyes. Oh, Sebastian had his way with the ladies, which, on occasion, came in handy; but which, most of the time, was just annoying. The show-off.

The demonic Earl turned his attention away from the teachers' table to survey the students. From across the hall, he could see Draco Malfoy and his two cronies huddled together in deep conversation. Ciel narrowed his eyes as he strained to hear them.

"No...I've already checked...usually deserted," the one named Crabbe was saying.

Ciel strained even more, inwardly cursing the general noise of the other students.

"Don't be stupid...I'll...another..." Malfoy hissed. "...can't afford…"

Malfoy's voice was completely drowned out by the flutter of a hundred owls as they suddenly swooped into the Great Hall. Ciel inwardly cursed as he looked up at the birds that flew overhead, encircling the Great Hall in search of the recipients of their parcels. He admitted that, despite his sour mood, he was rather fascinated—wizards may be old fashioned, but at least they had style (which, come to think of it, was somewhat contradictory).

A snowy white owl stood out from the others. It had no package tied to its leg and, unlike the other owls, the moment it flew into the hall, it swooped down the table to land imperiously on Harry Potter's outstretched arm.

For a fleeting instant, Ciel remembered how the Phantomhive family owl used to land on his arm in exactly the same manner. He frowned, thrusting the memory to the back of his mind as he continued observing Potter.

"Want some?" Harry offered, raising a piece of toast to Hedwig. She gratefully took the proffered toast, and nipped him affectionately on the finger. She dipped her beak into his goblet of pumpkin juice before hopping onto his shoulder, her soft wings brushing against his cheek.

"She seems particularly affectionate this morning," Hermione remarked.

"Nah, I'm just really loveable—ow!" Harry winced as Hedwig nipped him in the ear.

Ron and Hermione roared with laughter. Harry couldn't help it—he laughed along with them. Hedwig screeched shrilly as Harry's laughter made her sway on his shoulder.

"Ow!" Harry gasped as Hedwig nipped his ear. "Right, right, I'll behave!" Harry said, as he reached up to stroke Hedwig's head.

Ciel frowned. From what Dumbledore had told him of Potter, he expected the boy to be just like him—bitter, angry, and filled with a burning need for revenge. After all, the boy's parents had been killed (just like his), and he had been practically abused for most of his life by his own flesh and blood. And yet...

Potter was still smiling.

He was resilient, Ciel would admit as much. Would that mean that he, the Earl of Phantomhive, lacked the resilience that Potter seemed to possess?

No. They were different. Potter had not gone through what he had to endure. Potter had neither been tortured, starved, nor branded. Nor had he experienced almost being sacrificed to a devil...

"Mr. Phantomhive?"

A stern and curt voice snapped Ciel out of his musings. Professor McGonagall, their head of House, was standing behind him.

"Good morning, Professor," Ciel said deferentially.

Professor McGonagall nodded. "I would like to have a quick chat with you regarding your course schedule," she began. She waved her wand, and a piece of parchment appeared in the air. She snatched it, and read it for a moment before continuing.

"I have been speaking to Professor Dumbledore, and he has informed me that you have been taught the necessary subjects required for first and second years." She gave him a piercing look, which he unblinkingly returned.

"Yes, Professor," he said.

"He has also informed me that Professor Michaelis happened to be your tutor," she went on. There was something in her tone that made Ciel believe Dumbledore _did_ tell them about him and Sebastian.

He gave her a small smile. "Yes, Professor," he said.

She nodded curtly. "Hogwarts does not force students to attend the school," she went on. "However, it is still the school's duty to ensure that students receiving education at home are well trained."

"Sebastian was more than capable," Ciel said.

"I've no doubt of that," Professor McGonagall said, giving him a telling stare. Ciel grinned at her as she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Well, all seems to be in order with you," she went on, as she tapped the piece of parchment. She nodded curtly at him as she handed him his schedule. "Enjoy your stay at Hogwarts, Mr. Phantomhive."

Ciel took it. "I'm sure I will, Professor."

Professor McGonagall didn't say another word as she turned on her heel and strode off, emerald green robes swirling behind her. Ciel watched her go, and then looked down at his schedule.

"I _can't_ believe this!"

Ciel's blue eye snapped up. Potter and his two friends had just finished breakfast were already getting up from the table.

"I mean, look at this schedule!" Ron said as he thrust his parchment underneath Hermione's nose. "History of Magic, Herbology, and Transfiguration, all in one day! Great way to start the term. I'll be bored to death before the week is out, mark my words!"

"But Herbology and Transfiguration are all right," Harry said, looking at his parchment as Ron gave him an incredulous look.

"All right?" Ron said, bewildered. "Sure, they're all right...but any subject that follows History of Magic..." He trailed off, finally noticing the look that Hermione was once again giving him.

"What?" Ron said in exasperation.

Hermione shook her head, and rolled her eyes. Just then, she caught sight of Ciel, who had just gotten up from the table.

"Hello, Ciel!" Hermione called out, much to Harry's surprise.

Ciel froze, deliberated, and then turned to face them. "Hello," he said promptly, giving them a small smile.

"How are you this morning?" Hermione asked politely. She eyed the schedule in his hand. "Good week?"

"It's fine," Ciel said. Dumbledore _did_ say it would be easier to befriend Potter. "I've got Charms first, that should be interesting enough." Ciel inwardly frowned. He had not properly learned to channel his demonic energy last night. Charms would be a disaster, unless the professor who taught it didn't call on him.

"Haven't you had Charms before?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, weren't you taught Charms at home?"

"I was," Ciel said, inwardly swearing at his mistake. "I was referring to the professor. I've been much too used to Sebastian, so I'm wondering what the Charms professor will be like."

"Professor Flitwick's nice enough," Harry said. Ciel turned to him, and Harry momentarily wondered whether that blue eye would flash to red.

"I'll take your word for it," Ciel muttered.

"Say, why don't you come with us on your way to Charms?" Hermione suggested.

Ron and Harry stared at her. "I don't think you know where the rooms are yet. You might end up lost, or worse, late for class," Hermione went on, giving the nobleman a smile.

Ciel blinked, surprised at her offer. He would have thought that Potter and his friends would be suspicious of him...

He shrugged. "That's fine by me," he said.

Ignoring the looks that Harry and Ron were throwing her, Hermione led the way out of the Great Hall. Ciel deliberately stayed behind. In the entrance hall, they caught sight of Fred and George Weasley, both of whom were pouring over their schedules, identical frowns on their faces.

"This is hell, George," Fred was saying as they got closer.

"Bloody well is, Fred," George agreed. "If it weren't for mum, I wouldn't bother coming back for N.E.W.T.s..."

"Yeah, I think when we die, we'll become saints," Fred said dispassionately. "St. Fred and St. George. Patron saints of mischief. Not bad, though." Catching sight of Harry and the others, he raised his voice. "Oy!"

"Rough morning?" Harry asked as they approached the twins.

George sighed tragically. "Double Potions, first thing on the list," he said, waving his schedule under Harry's nose.

"Rough," Ron said.

Fred nodded solemnly then, catching sight of Ciel, said, "Ciel, isn't it?"

Ciel nodded. "Ah, I see you in the company of the Golden Trio," George said, snickering.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Better watch out, mate, you'll get into heaps of trouble, hanging out with this lot," Fred jokingly admonished.

"C'mon," Hermione said, as she led them away from Fred and George.

"See you around!" Harry called out to the twins.

"See you!" they chorused.

"So, Ciel, how was it like being a nobleman and a home-schooled wizard?" Hermione asked, when silence threatened to overtake them.

"Tiresome," Ciel replied. "I had to balance everything. Public appearances, magical classes with Sebastian, Muggle classes with a muggle tutor and whatnot."

"But now that you're at Hogwarts," Harry said as they climbed the staircase to the third floor. "Who handles all the nobleman business back at London?"

Ciel shrugged. "One of my advisors, so to speak," he said. His tone did not encourage further conversation, and presently they came to the Charms corridor.

"Charms is that way," Hermione said, pointing to the door near the end.

Ciel nodded. "Thank you," he said.

"We'll see you around," Hermione said, as she herded Harry and Ron away.

Harry glanced over his shoulder. Ciel was still staring after them. To his surprise, Ciel smirked and raised his fingers, wiggling them in goodbye. His hands, Harry noted for the first time, were gloved.

"What's wrong with his hands?" Harry wondered aloud.

Ron made a noise in the back of his throat. "He's royalty, isn't he? Maybe he just doesn't like getting them dirty," he said.

**. . .**

"Ciel Phantomhive, I presume?"

Ciel looked down at the tiny wizard who smiled up at him. If he remembered correctly, his name was Professor Flitwick. For a fleeting instant, he was vividly reminded of a garden gnome with a wand. He immediately banished the thought.

"Yes, Professor," he replied. From the periphery of his vision, he noted the other students craning their necks to get a good look at him. Did he _really _seem like such a novelty? Apparently, yes.

"Good to have you in my class, dear boy!" Flitwick said, beaming up at him. "Choose a seat."

Ciel took his seat next to a blonde Ravenclaw whose smug look and brown eyes instantly earned the demonic Earl's distaste. "Nice to finally meet the infamous Earl Phantomhive in the flesh," the boy said.

Ciel raised an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"I'm Jonathan Alecott, by the way," the boy said, extending a hand to him. "My father is Richard Alecott, owner of the Alecott wines in the muggle word."

Ciel remembered the brand, but he had never tasted it. "Ah," he said. "Yes, I'm surprised you're here."

"As is my father," Jonathan said. "He actually planned to send me off to Oxford for college, but I got my owl on my eleventh birthday. Turns out, mum was a witch, and she never told him. Nearly had a heart attack, my old man, but he's gotten over it. Actually finds it very useful to have a witch and wizard in the family."

"Well, that's—" Ciel began.

"Dad will be over the moon when he finds out that _the_ Earl Phantomhive is a wizard," the boy went on, chuckling at the mental image of his father.

"I don't want—" Ciel tried yet again.

"'Course, he'll be asking me a lot about you," Jonathan said. "Kind of admires your family. He keeps on saying that the Phantomhives have always been genius. Of course, like everyone he wonders why you're relations keep leaving."

"Listen, Jonathan," Ciel said. "You can't tell—"

"Now, class," Professor Flitwick said from the front, his wand held aloft. "We shall begin with an overview of the Cheering charm, its uses and incantation…"

"What was that you were saying, Phantomhive?" Jonathan asked him.

Ciel took a deep breath. He found Professor Flitwick's class to be rather interesting, and the idiot sitting next to him to be very annoying.

"I don't want you telling your old man about me," Ciel said rapidly, his eyes still on Professor Flitwick as he made a gesture with his wand and pointed it directly at a student.

"Why?" Jonathan asked.

"I don't want anyone from the House of Lords finding out about my involvement in magic," Ciel said, as though it were quite obvious.

"Why?" the idiot persisted.

Ciel turned a steely eye toward him. "Just do as you're told," he snapped. How dense could he be?

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Of course, my lord," he said sarcastically.

Ciel ignored his jibe and turned back to Professor Flitwick, who was now ordering the class into pairs to practice the Charm. He frowned. Damn, he didn't think he'd be performing magic this soon. Thinking back to Sebastian's class last night, he felt as though an ice cube had plummeted into his stomach. He had not mastered channelling his demonic magic.

"Partners, Phantomhive?" Jonathan said, a little too smugly.

Damn.

"As you will," Ciel said, narrowing his eyes.

Professor Flitwick waved his wand once, and the desks immediately flew to the side, pressing themselves neatly against the wall in order to give everyone a wide space in which to practice.

"You first, Alecott," Ciel said, rolling up his sleeves and brandishing the fake wand. All around them students cried out spells, some backfiring. From the corner of his eye, Ciels saw fireflies erupting from the tip of someone's wand.

Jonathan raised the wand. "_Diffundo!_" he cried.

Ciel felt nothing. Of course, Sebastian had told him that ordinary muggle magic could not affect anyone of their kind. Normally, he would have acted in accordance with the effects of the spell, but seeing as this was Alecott…

He blinked and looked puzzled.

"Nothing?" Jonathan asked, surprised at himself.

"Not a thing," Ciel said, trying in vain not to smile at Jonathan's flustered expression.

"Queer," the idiot said. "I'm one of the best in Ravenclaw."

Ciel chuckled. "Maybe someone cast a Delusional Charm on you."

Jonathan glared. "Go on, have a go."

Ciel's eyes darkened as he lifted the wand. Truth be told, he had a sneaking suspicion that he would end up hurting Alecott if he attempted to cast a simple charm using his demonic magic. Alecott may have been an idiot, but he didn't deserve to be hurt. Well, he did, but Ciel did not want to get into trouble with his master so soon.

He glanced around to ensure that no one was watching (in the chaos that was Charms, people simply did not have the time to stare at them). He turned to Jonathan, and his eye flashed red.

Jonathan blinked.

_Do as you're told_. Ciel sent the thought into Jonathan's mind. A vacant expression crossed Jonathan's face, before he nodded. Ciel smirked. He took great pride in his ability to manipulate the minds of humans.

"Good," Ciel whispered. "The moment I cast the spell, you will be cheerful, understood?"

Another nod. Ciel brandished the wand. "_Diffundo!"_ he said, not letting a trickle of demonic energy channel through.

Jonathan immediately smiled. "I feel great!" he exclaimed, arms extending sideways. He had a rather exaggerated smile on his face as he beamed at Ciel.

"Well done, Mr. Phantomhive!" Professor Flitwick said as he came over. "Most students master the spell in three days to a week, but you have done it in one sitting! Take twenty points for Gryffindor!"

Ciel felt extremely pleased with himself as the bell rang.

**. . .**

"What was that, Hermione?" Ron said groggily as they traipsed out of the History of Magic class. Judging from the look on both Ron's and Harry's faces, Professor Binn's sonorous voice had truly worked its magic far better than any sleeping draught.

"I'm saying you and Harry need to be serious!" Hermione huffed, glaring at them.

"I can't be Snuffles, Hermione, he's back in London," Harry said, grinning.

She gave him a scathing look. "N.E.W.T.s are coming up, and you two aren't taking things seriously!" Hermione snapped as they quickly descended the staircase.

"Give us a break, Hermione, it's the start of term!" Ron protested.

"And already, Professor Binns gave us homework!" Hermione pointed out.

Whatever trace of drowsiness immediately vanished from Ron's voice. "Homework? He did? When?"

"When you were conveniently snoring while I took down notes!"

"The homework, what's it about?"

"A four-foot long essay on the goblin rebellion of Rughorg the Remorseless," Hermione said. "And I'm not lending you my notes!"

Both Harry and Ron stopped dead in their tracks.

"But Hermione!"

"We can't manage without you!"

"Then let me introduce you to the library," Hermione said smugly.

"Don't be such a prat Hermione!" Ron said desperately which, apparently, was the wrong thing to say.

"Oh?" Hermione snarled, rounding on him as Harry instinctively backed away from the impending storm. "_I'm_ the prat? Just who has been relying on me for the past six years, without even trying his best? Who, do you think, keeps pestering me because he wanted to copy my homework? And who, after he's done copying, can't even be bothered to say thanks? I WONDER WHO!"

The last words were shouted with such force that Ron visibly paled. "You don't always let me copy," Ron pointed out feebly.

"You!" Hermione screeched. By now, a small group had formed around them. "You manky plonker!" Throwing Ron one last final look of deepest loathing, she turned on her heel and stormed off, leaving an astounded silence in her wake.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with Granger?" Ernie Macmillan asked.

"Must be that time of the month," another boy volunteered. A haughty-looking Ravenclaw girl threw him a glare.

Harry sighed and grabbed Ron's elbow. "C'mon," he muttered as he dragged Ron after Hermione.

"Where are we going?" Ron asked.

"We're going to apologize to Hermione," Harry said simply.

"What? Harry, you can't be serious! I mean, shouldn't we let her cool down for a bit?"

"She does have a point, you know," Harry said as they descended the stairs. "You and I have never taken that History of Magic class seriously, and I think she's just worried, what with N.E.W.T.s coming up and all."

"I still say we give her a wide berth for three days," Ron said darkly.

"Don't be such a prat," Harry said. "Hermione just cares about us, is all."

Ron, to his credit, held his tongue.

As they walked along the Charms corridor, they caught sight of a familiar head of bluish-black hair. Ciel Phantomhive was leaning against the wall, his face buried in his _A History of Magic_ book by Bathilda Bagshot.

"Hullo Ciel," Harry called on an impulse out as he and Ron passed by.

The boy looked up. "You lot," Ciel said, nodding.

"Just finished Charms?" Harry asked, as Ron gave him a curious look. "What'd you have?"

"Cheering charms," Ciel said, a hint of pride in his voice. Harry had a feeling that the Earl had scored points for Gryffindor.

"Everything going alright?" Harry prodded, realizing that he sounded awkward.

"Yes," Ciel said. "If you don't mind, I'm off for History of Magic."

"By the way," Harry said as Ciel strode off. "You didn't happen to see Hermione around, did you?"

Ciel stopped and glanced at them from over his shoulder. "Why, yes," he said. "She looked very angry."

Ron gulped as Ciel walked off. "See, Harry? A wide berth, I say!"

"She'll appreciate it more if we just apologize to her," Harry said, as he led Ron down the stairs.

"By the way," Ron said, as they grew quiet. "Why are you being nice to Phantomhive?"

Harry stopped as an image of a young man pulling a knife from his chest flashed across his eyes. "There's something odd about Ciel and Professor Michaelis, and I want to know what."

**. . .**

Ciel climbed up the stairs, frowning as he thought of Potter and his friends. The girl, Hermione, was the only one who had bothered being courteous to him, and he didn't think it was in Potter's nature to extend the same treatment. Normally, one would have dismissed Potter's greeting as politeness, but Ciel Phantomhive had been the Queen's Watchdog. He'd sullied himself with London's underground criminal world at a tender age, and he'd learned that appearances could be deceitful, motives even more so.

He was suspicious of Potter.

As Potter was, no doubt, suspicious of him.

A small smile crept along his lips. Oh, let Potter find out the truth. There was nothing in his contract with Dumbledore that stated that Potter was to be kept in the dark regarding their true identity. His smiled widened. He would enjoy watching as Potter struggled to find the truth.

_Let the games begin,_ Ciel thought as he rounded an empty corridor. He stopped in his tracks as a sudden realization washed over him.

He had no idea where History of Magic was.

Cursing, Ciel turned on his heel, when the sound of a loud, wet, blowing raspberry filled his ears.

"Weeeeeeeeeee! What does Peevsy have here? A firstie with a dirty mouth, I fear!" With a loud _pop_, Peeves the Poltergeist suddenly appeared before him, looking absolutely delighted. "Why, if it isn't ickle firstie!"

"I'm a third year," Ciel snapped.

Peeves let out a loud cackle. "Don't lie to Peevsy!" the poltergeist said as he hovered above Ciel. "What's the Wee One doing out here all on his own?"

Ciel ignored Peeves as he walked past the poltergeist. "Come now, _little_ lord!" Peeves hollered as he zoomed along beside Ciel. "Why the long face, Wee One? Have the big bad students been bullying the little lord already?"

"Go away!" Ciel growled.

"Oooh! The little dog thinks he's a big, bad werewolf!" Peeves said, cackling like mad. Without warning, he swooped down, and tugged hard at Ciel's eye patch.

"Arrrgh!" Ciel screamed as he instinctively covered his eye with his hand. Peeves laughed with great gusto, hovering above his reach, and dangling his eye patch tauntingly in front of him.

"Give it here at once!" Ciel ordered furiously.

"Come and get it, my little lord!" Peeves jeered as he floated even higher.

Ciel let out a frustrated growl. Dammit, he was much too high for a human to reach. Ciel's eye widened in realization as he glanced around the corridor. It was empty. Gloriously, gloriously empty.

He glanced up at Peeves, a sinister smile creeping across his face. "Oh, I'll get it, alright," Ciel said, as he lowered his hand and opened his left eye, where the sign of the contract shone against the blue of his iris.

"What's wrong with your eye, ickle firstie?" Peeves said. Ciel noted with satisfaction that his voice had lost its jibe. He smiled at Peeves, showing the poltergeist a row of sharp, sinister teeth. Peeves visibly paled as Ciel's eyes gleamed red up at him.

"Now…you wanted me to come and get it?"

The corridor remained empty as the sound of Peeves' screams filled the air.

**. . .**

**Author's Note:**

**I know I've been on hiatus for quite a while. Okay, maybe 'a while' is an understatement. I have been very busy the past few years, because I've been fulfilling requirements for graduation, and I've been preparing myself for the Board Exams, which I've already taken. I have one year of free time before I get on with my life, so expect regular-ish updates from me in the near future.**

**Oh, and by the way, I've purposefully deviated from the books when it came to class schedules and some other details. As you've read, Harry and the gang have 'History of Magic', even though they've dropped the subject in the sixth book. I won't be following the sixth book's storyline**_** much**_**. **

**And many thanks to those who've continued to read and review, despite my 'absence'. I can't tell you guys how touched I get when I see your messages : )**


	5. That Butler, Teaching

**V**

**That Butler, Teaching**

**. . .**

"_I'd really quite like...to play  
>the tutor once again today.<br>That splendid sense of being always right  
>It's a fine art that scholars know;<br>The Devil lost it long ago."  
><em>-Mephistopheles, Goethe's Faust (Part II)

**. . .**

Harry sighed as he led Ron towards the library. Ron was still hesitant about confronting Hermione, who, according to him, was probably still upset. Upset enough to pull a curse on them, he had said ominously. Harry told him he was being paranoid.

"Listen, the sooner we apologize, the sooner she forgives us," Harry said firmly. Though, truth be told, he was also having doubts. He immediately squashed them as they entered the library. Madame Pince, the librarian, narrowed her eyes at them.

"But Harry!" Ron protested, his voice a low whisper. "It's a rule, mate! When a girl's upset, you give her a _wide berth_ until she cools down."

"Says who, _Witch Weekly?"_ Harry asked, throwing Ron a grin.

"Hey!" Ron snapped, in hushed tones. His ears went a spectacular shade of red, blending nicely with the colour of his hair. "It was _Ginny_, who was reading it aloud, not me!"

Harry chuckled with good humour as they continued to walk among the rows of bookshelves. As always, the library was silent, with the exception of the scratching of quills, and the turning of pages. Harry searched the heads of the students bent over books, until he finally spotted an all too familiar mane of bushy brown hair.

"Hermione," Harry said quietly, as he and Ron carefully approached her. Very hesitantly, they sat down on the vacant chairs across the table.

Hermione looked up sharply from her book. Her face was, not surprisingly, set in a frown. Harry could feel Ron quail beside him as Hermione regarded them with a rather cool look in her eyes. "What?" she asked tersely.

"Er…Ron wanted to say something," Harry said, giving Ron a pat on the back.

Ron threw him a look. "Traitor," he muttered under his breath, before looking up at Hermione, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, go on," Hermione said. Her arms were crossed on the table, and her expression was a perfect replica of Professor McGonagall's own stern look.

"Er…" Ron began. He held his breath as, it seemed to Harry, he recoiled beneath Hermione's narrowed eyes.

"If you're just going to waste my time, Ronald, I suggest you leave," Hermione snapped, unfolding her arms and returning to her book.

"Wait!" Ron whispered urgently. Hermione huffed, and looked up at him once more. Ron took a deep breath. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier…about the prat bit, I mean."

Hermione folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. "And…?" she said.

Ron frowned, puzzled. "And…er…" He looked towards Harry, a confused expression in his eyes. Harry inwardly sighed, and gave Hermione's book a pointed look. "Oh, and…sorry about the copying bit," Ron continued.

"Go on…" Harry didn't fail to notice the small smile tugging at the corners of Hermione's mouth, and he grinned to himself.

Ron, failing to notice, visibly panicked. "And…and…" He screwed his face in confusion, as he struggled to remember his other offences. His expression suddenly shifted from flummoxed to enlightened. "I'm sorry about falling asleep in Binns's class," he said. He turned to Harry, an expectant look in his eyes.

"What?" Harry said, as Hermione shifted her steely gaze to him. "Er…right…sorry about not paying attention to Binns earlier."

Hermione regarded them for a moment, before she reached into her bag, drew out two rolls of parchment, and pushed them towards Harry and Ron. "Well, then, those essays aren't going to start themselves," she said briskly, returning to her book. Harry caught a look of satisfaction on her face before she bent her head.

"Now?" Rin said, aghast.

Hermione glared menacingly at him. "Er…right," Ron said, immediately turning to Harry. "Pass me a quill, would you, Harry?"

**. . .**

Ciel skulked into the History of Magic classroom, a smug smile on his face as he thought of Peeves. Suffice to say, the poltergeist wouldn't be bothering anyone else for now. For a moment, he wondered how Sebastian would react when he found out what he had done to Peeves (it was either insincere praise or ridicule. Ciel was betting on the former).

He looked about the room. One swift glance told him that the Gryffindors would be having the class with the Slytherins. Remembering his encounter with Draco Malfoy—whom he had learned was a Slytherin—he wondered how this class would turn out.

He took the seat at the back of the class, away from the other students. Taking out _A History of Magic_, Ciel opened it to where he had left off, and began to read, pointedly ignoring the stares the other students were giving him.

"S'cuse me, but is this seat taken?"

Ciel looked up—rather annoyed—to find a small-looking boy with mousy brown hair staring hesitantly down at him. The boy's eyes widened the moment he caught sight of Ciel's face.

"You're Earl Phantomhive!" the boy exclaimed, obviously excited.

Several people turned to stare at them. "Sit down!" Ciel hissed, pulling the boy down on to the seat.

The boy did not seem to mind the earl's irritability. If anything, he seemed more enthusiastic. "I can't believe I'm really meeting _the _Earl of Phantomhive in the flesh!" the boy went on. "I saw you during your sorting! I'm in Gryffindor, too! I actually saw you earlier, in Charms. I wanted to talk to you, but you were with Jonathan Alecott, and—"

"Who are you?" Ciel interjected. He closed _A History of Magic_, and frowned. Jonathan Alecott was still fresh on his mind.

"Oh, sorry your lordship!" the boy said sincerely. "I'm Dennis Creevey! I've always wanted to—"

"_Ciel_ will do just fine," the earl corrected. Normally, he basked in his title as 'Earl Phantomhive', but it simply would not do to be addressed as 'your lordship' while within Hogwarts.

Dennis Creevey's eyes widened. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly," he said. "You're the Earl of Phantomhive, after all. My father's a milkman, you see, so we're muggle-born. He kind of looks up to your family, actually, saying how all of the Phantomhives were ingenious."

Ciel let out a breath. First, Alecott, now Creevey. He was starting to regret his decision to come along as 'Earl Ciel Phantomhive'. He could have altered his appearance, and used a common name, just as Sebastian had suggested (he had not been in a mood to listen to Sebastian's suggestion—the butler had beaten him in a game of chess).

"We actually loved playing with the Funtom toys when we were younger," Creevey went on, oblivious to the Earl's mounting agitation.

The demonic earl took in a breath. If it were not for the fact that Creevey was of the same House as him, he would have lashed out by now. He was about to tell the boy off, but was cut short when a ghost suddenly walked through the blackboard.

Ciel's eyes widened in surprise. The ghost was rather shrivelled in appearance, and wore thick, round spectacles. He was semi-transparent, and pearly white. He held an equally pearly white book in his hand. Ciel was not ignorant of ghosts—he had seen them floating about the castle, after all (and Peeves, though not really a ghost, was close enough).

"No need to look so surprised," Creevey said. "It's just Professor Binns."

The earl gave a curt nod. Being taught by a ghost should be interesting enough (what better personage to narrate the grisly goblin rebellions, and bloody giant wars?).

The moment Professor Binns spoke, however, it was safe to say that Earl Ciel Phantomhive was horribly mistaken. As Binns droned on—in a somnolent, dry voice—about the witch hunt of the medieval ages, Ciel felt his eyelids grow heavy. This was absurd, demons did not sleep!

He blinked vigorously, and tried to imagine Sebastian's snide remarks about not being able to stay awake. "However," Binns was saying, "despite the fact that witches often escaped muggle burnings with a basic Flame Freezing charm, there have been instances when a witch failed to escape, due to inexperience. As with inexperience, it was usually young, uneducated witches who were caught by muggles. More often than not, an experienced witch or wizard—usually the parents—would come to the rescue of the unfortunate individual, which only served to further advance muggle suspicions regarding those who used magic…"

No longer caring about what Sebastian might say, Earl Ciel Phantomhive's head slumped onto his desk.

**. . .**

"Hey, Harry, several people were wondering when you'd be holding Quidditch tryouts," Dean Thomas said, approaching Harry during lunch.

Harry, who had suffered a bump to the head due to an irritable plorkyplum in Herbology, gave Dean a puzzled look. "Oh, right," he muttered, abandoning his steak-and-kidney pie. As the new captain of the Gryffindor quidditch team, he should have thought about it beforehand. "Um…I'll book the pitch for this Saturday."

"Great!" Dean said, as he bounded off.

"You know, I nearly forgot that you were quidditch captain," Ron admitted.

"With everything that's happened, I nearly forgot myself," Harry said. Truth be told, the whole business with the Death Eaters and Ciel Phantomhive had driven a lot of things from his mind lately.

"But you're having tryouts this Saturday, right?" Ron went on.

Harry nodded. "We need several new players," he said. "Fred and George might want to have a go at it again." When the twins had left last year, after their spectacular escape from Umbridge, Angelina Johnson—the then quidditch captain—had failed to find suitable replacements to fill the role of beaters.

Ron fell silent as he turned his attention to his food. Harry took a sip of his iced pumpkin juice, eyes glancing around the table. Several people—mostly girls—were staring at him, whispering and giggling. Feeling a slight tinge in his cheeks, he turned his eyes away from them. He frowned, puzzled. Phantomhive had not shown up for lunch.

"Here you are, then," Hermione suddenly piped up, handing each of them a piece of parchment.

Ron took the one offered to him. "What are these?" he muttered, eyes scanning the parchment.

"Your schedules," Hermione said brightly, handing Harry his. "I've went and decided to make schedules for both of you, so you don't fall behind on schoolwork, like last year."

Ron apprehensively perused his schedule. "You've given me a lot of free periods!" he suddenly said excitedly, his eyebrows rising.

Harry checked his. Like Ron's, there were little boxes in his schedule that had been left with a blank. "You've given me free periods, too," he said.

Hermione scoffed. "Those are study periods," she said, immediately squashing both Harry and Ron's enthusiasm. "We'll be in our seventh years next year. With N.E.W.T.s coming up, we might as well start reviewing _now._ And Harry, I've left Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays vacant, for quidditch practice."

"Harry!" Harry nearly jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Fred and George Weasley were grinning at him, their identical faces eager.

"Heard you've got quidditch tryouts this Saturday," Fred said.

"That's right," Harry said. "You two don't need to try out anymore, though. You're the best beaters Gryffindor's had."

George scoffed. "I can imagine Oliver's reaction now…" he said, his voice reminiscent.

"Fine, fine!" Harry said hastily. He could imagine, all too clearly, Oliver's furious reaction to his overconfidence regarding his teammates' abilities. "You two can join the tryouts, and if you're not good enough, you won't make the cut."

Fred immediately looked hurt. "You want us to try out? Blimey, you've seen us play, haven't you?"

"But, I thought you meant that Oliver wouldn't have wanted—" Harry began.

"Oliver would praise our skills, right George?"

"Right you are, Fred!"

"Fine, you don't have to try out," Harry said, exasperated.

George snickered. "Only messing with you, Harry, 'course we'll try out," he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. "Might be that our skills have gotten rusty, what with spending most of our time at the joke shop, and all."

Harry didn't know whether to be amused or annoyed. Decidedly, it was both. "_Fine_, see you this Saturday," he said.

The twins grinned. "Oh, and by the way," Fred went on, as he pilfered the remnants of Harry's pie. "You'd want to watch out for Defense."

"Why?" Harry, Ron, and Hermione automatically asked.

"Professor Michaelis," George said solemnly.

"What about him?" Harry asked eagerly. He was still baffled about Sebastian Michaelis and Ciel Phantomhive's midnight excursion to the Forbidden Forest.

"Bloody great teacher," Fred said, awe and respect in his voice (and this was rare, considering he was _Fred_).

"Knows his stuff, he does," George agreed. "S'almost as if he's experienced everything to do with the Dark Arts first hand."

"Bloody brilliant, too."

"He's one hell of a teacher, I'll give him that much."

"There is a bit of a snag, though," Fred said, chortling. "Most of the girls in class are in danger of failing."

"Yeah, I can see _why,"_ Ron said, looking pointedly at Hermione, who glared.

"Anyway, you'll find out for yourselves," Fred said. "Oh, and thanks for the pie, Harry!" With that, they stalked off.

Ron immediately dove into his bag to retrieve his schedule. "We've got him tomorrow!" he said eagerly.

"Since when have you been eager for a class?" Hermione retorted, folding her arms.

"Blimey, Hermione, Professor Michaelis must be really, _really _good to make Fred and George talk like that," Ron pointed out.

Harry bit his lower lip as a vivid mental image of Sebastian Michaelis's glowing, blood-red eyes flashed through his mind. "He ought to be," he muttered.

**. . .**

"But have you met the Queen?" Dennis Creevey asked as he and Ciel strode down the corridor.

Ciel let out a long sigh that he did not bother to hide. The moment History of Magic had ended, Ciel had bolted for the door—he couldn't stand Creevey's incessant talk (he had attempted to make small chat during History, but Ciel had fallen under the power of Binns's voice, leaving Creevey silent. The moment the bell had rang, he began to open his mouth and drone on, and on, and on, and on). It was all Ciel could to stop himself from lashing out, and doing what he did to Alecott earlier.

"Have you?" Creevey went on.

"Have I what?" Ciel asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Met the Queen?" Creevey sounded excited. In fact, Ciel did not fail to notice that he sounded excited about, well, about _everything_.

"Before," he said tersely. "Listen, aren't you planning on having lunch?"

"I was!" Creevey said, suddenly remembering. "I was planning on meeting up with Colin, actually, my older brother. You could meet him! He'd be really thrilled."

Ciel let out a long breath. He must not lose his temper. Creevey belonged in Gryffindor, and Ciel—though usually keeping to himself—was loathe to go against his own.

"I'm not in the mood for lunch," Ciel said. "I'm going to stay in the library, then head off to Herbology later."

"D'you want me to come and get you?" the boy asked eagerly. "I don't reckon you know where the greenhouses are. We do Herbology there, and it's really wicked—"

"Obviously, they'd have to be _outside,_" Ciel said vehemently (predictably, the boy failed to take note of his vehemence). "I can manage. I wouldn't want you to rush because of me."

"Oh, it would be no trouble at all, your lordship!" Creevey said. He sounded happy that Ciel would be so considerate of him.

"I've told you to call me Ciel," the earl said, as people stared at them.

"Alright…Ciel," Creevey said, grinning as though it was their closely guarded secret. "I'll see you in Herbology then, Earl Phantomhive!" The boy waved as he left.

Ciel did not care if people were watching. He slapped a hand to his forehead, and growled.

**. . .**

Ron let out a frustrated sigh as he crumpled—for the eighth time—his parchment, before tossing it unceremoniously into the fireplace. "Rughorg the Remorseless, my arse," Ron muttered darkly, as he retrieved another roll of parchment from his bag.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just finished dinner, and were currently situated in the common room, right across the fire. Hermione had badgered them both about the pile of homework they had received, and Harry and Ron, albeit unwillingly, allowed themselves to be bullied into working.

Harry looked up from his partially completed essay, just as Hermione threw Ron a most scathing look. "If I were you, I'd read the book first, then write the essay," Hermione said, tapping a thick volume beside Ron. "That way, you won't have as many mistakes again."

Ron muttered something unintelligible as he drew the book towards him. "Then we've got old McGonagall's essay on Switching spells," Ron said darkly.

Both Harry and Hermione thought it wise not to incite Ron's temper with a reply. Harry leaned against his squashy armchair and glanced around. The common room was silent, with students moving quietly about (earlier on, it had been in absolute bedlam, until Hermione—reinforcing her authority as prefect—had threatened to report the noisemakers to Professor McGonagall, much to everyone's chagrin).

"Looks like you aren't the only one having a bad moment, Ron," Harry said quietly, as Ciel Phantomhive strode through the portrait hole, and into the common room. He wore his customary frown on his face.

Ron and Hermione looked up, just as Ciel climbed the staircases to the boy's dormitories. "Doesn't seem to be interested in working," Hermione said, clicking her tongue in disapproval.

"Give the guy a break, he's new to all this," Ron said, violently dotting the 'i' on his essay. "Besides, he's a third year—_they _haven't got N.E.W.T.s _next school year_."

"Professor McGonagall herself said that we should prepare, as early as now," Hermione pointed out, narrowing her eyes dangerously at Ron's bent head.

Harry, who could sense an impending storm, let out a long yawn. "Blimey, I'm tired," Harry groaned. "I'll finish this at dawn, I really need to get to bed."

Neither Ron nor Hermione answered him, as their voices rose in heated argument.

**. . .**

_Darkness and silence surrounded him as he made his way up the aisle. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle swish of his cloak as he walked, his eyes narrowed as he quietly took in his surroundings. Above him, loomed the vaulted ceiling, hidden in the shadows, just like he was._

_He sneered as he reached the end of the aisle, his eyes looking up at the stained glass windows. Moonlight streamed through the glass, throwing color on the floor at his feet. For a moment, he contemplated the artwork on the glass—a man seated on a throne, with a halo round his head, surrounded by angels and men, the latter of whom raised their hands in praise and thanks for their salvation._

_Here, he thought, was man's ultimate folly—turning towards a power greater than them, so that they could be saved. He scoffed at mankind's stupidity. Why turn towards another power, when one could simply grasp it for oneself? Fools, the whole lot of them._

_He, however, was not._

_Turning his eyes away from the stained windows, he looked towards the altar, a nasty smile on his lips as he raised his wand. Immediately, a loud _bang!_ echoed around him as the altar crumbled. Lowering his wand, he waited._

_He did not have to wait long. Several minutes later, an old man quickly entered the chancel. The muggle had dressed quickly—he wore nothing but a bathrobe over his sleepwear, and a pair of slippers. He held an old-fashioned lamp in his hand, bathing him in a soft circle of light._

"_Is anyone there?" the muggle asked aloud. His voice echoed about them._

_He slowly emerged from the shadows, and made his way towards the muggle. The muggle's eyes widened in fright as he caught sight of him—they were always afraid. Amused, he watched as the muggle crossed himself, mumbling prayers that no one would hear._

_He laughed, high, cold, and cruel, as he slowly raised the wand._

**. . .**

_Screaming…someone was screaming…_

"Harry!"

Harry woke with a start, his heart hammering in his chest, and cold beads of sweat on his forehead. He was shaking, and the scar on his forehead was burning. A blurry face hovered above his, but he had no trouble making out the head of fiery hair.

"Ron!" Harry gasped, holding onto Ron's arm. Ron shoved his glasses onto his nose, and everything came into focus. To Harry's surprise, the other boys surrounded his bed. They wore both their pyjamas, and worried looks on their faces as they looked at Harry. Neville, Harry realized, was shaking just as badly as he was.

"Harry, what happened?" Seamus asked urgently.

Before Harry could answer, another flash of pain seared across his forehead, and he automatically clamped a hand to his scar. Seeing the gesture, the other boys paled.

"Is it your scar?" Dean asked.

Harry did not answer him, but turned to Ron. For a moment, they shared a knowing look. "We need to get Dumbledore," Ron said.

"He's out, I'm afraid."

Startled, they turned towards the door. To their surprise, Ciel Phantomhive leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. Like the rest of them, he was in his pyjamas.

"Out?" Harry repeated, and Ciel nodded.

"I overheard Professor McGonagall mention it during dinner," the nobleman said. For a moment, he regarded Potter with an amused smile. "Your head hurts, I suppose?"

"Never you mind!" Ron snapped, glaring. "Why're you here, anyway? Get back to your dormitory, this is none of your business."

Harry's grip tightened around Ron's arm, as he regarded Phantomhive, who ignored Ron. For a moment, their eyes met. And, for a moment, Harry wondered—would that blue eye flash to red?

"Hmph," Ciel said, turning his back on them. "You're right, Weasley, it doesn't concern me." He looked back at Harry from over his shoulder. "Oh, and Potter…Chamomile tea should help keep the bad dreams away." He gave them an amused smile as he left.

"Creepy git," Ron muttered.

Harry felt his scar prickling, and couldn't help but agree with Ron.

**. . .**

Harry lay in his bed, his eyes fixed on the canopy above him. The others had long since fallen back to sleep, as did Ron, whose snores echoed the loudest of all. Sleep refused to come, and he could hardly be blamed.

That dream…

No, it hadn't been a dream. He was certain that he had seen what Voldemort had seen. And what exactly had he seen? A church, or cathedral of some sort…

But why?

What was Voldemort doing there, of all places? There had been an old man, Harry recalled. He frowned, his fists clenching. He was certain that Voldemort had deliberately lured the old muggle man to him, but _why? _What use did Voldemort have for a _muggle?_ Or had the Dark Lord merely been in a killing mood? The questions were endless.

Harry desperately wanted to tell Dumbledore, but, according to Phantomhive, he was away. Speaking of Phantomhive…

Harry sat up, and rummaged in his trunk until he found the Marauder's map. Making sure that the hangings were drawn tightly around his bed, he held his wand in front of him, and murmured, "_Lumos!"_

"I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good," Harry said quietly. As the map of Hogwarts appeared in front of him, his eyes fell on Dumbledore's office, and chambers—both were empty. He scanned the entire map and—likewise—failed to find Dumbledore within the castle, or on the grounds. Where was he?

He was about to put the map away, and a movement on the map caught his eye. Two dots labelled 'Sebastian Michaelis' and 'Ciel Phantomhive', were moving towards the great double oak doors. Harry's eyes widened.

"What are you up to?" Harry asked aloud. His only answer was silence.

**. . .**

Ciel stood facing Sebastian, the cold night air blowing between them. Around them, the Forbidden Forest was still, not a soul stirring in sight. Sebastian's arms were folded as he regarded his master with an amused expression, his black robes billowing about him.

"My, my, young master," the butler said, smiling. "I've heard tell that you're a natural at Cheering charms. Indeed?"

"If you're going to lecture me about Alecott, you're wasting your time," Ciel said, drawing his wand from his robes. "I merely did what I had to do."

"Oh, no," Sebastian said, look of feigned surprise on his face. "I wasn't going to lecture you about Alecott, young master—I was going to lecture you about something else."

Ciel frowned. "About what?"

"Haven't I told you before? You will get no satisfaction from forceful mental manipulation of the human mind," the butler said.

Ciel scoffed. "I've heard your mantra about temptation, Sebastian. It takes too long, and I've no patience for it."

Sebastian's smile grew feral. "Oh, but you should," the butler said, amused. "Humans are more delectable, when they stray so willingly from the light."

"Enough," Ciel ordered, finally losing patience. "We came here so we could finish our little class from last night."

"Indeed, we did," Sebastian said, immediately the teacher. He drew out his wand, and smiled. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes…your failed attempts at casting the Wand-lighting charm."

Ciel narrowed his eyes. "You…you…" he hissed.

"Now, now, young master," Sebastian said, his tone amused. "You must clear your mind, and _focus."_

**. . .**

"Harry, you look awful," Hermione commented the next morning, as they made their way towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry yawned. He had not been able to get an ounce of sleep last night, not after that dream. Ron briefed Hermione on last night's events, ending with: _"Told_ him to mind his own business, that git."

"Very polite, Ronald," Hermione said sarcastically, before turning back to Harry. "What was the dream about?"

Harry frowned. "Voldemort," he said softly, as students walked past them. Ron and Hermione both winced, and they deliberately slowed their steps. "He was…I think he was in some sort of church, I couldn't make out much, it was dark…He raised his wand at an old muggle man there. I…I dunno if he killed him outright, or tortured him first."

"Did you recognize the church?" Hermione asked.

"No, it was too dark. Besides…I haven't been to many churches," Harry said. "The Dursleys wouldn't take me with them." He was silent for a moment. "I need to tell Dumbledore."

"But he left," Hermione said.

Harry sighed heavily. He supposed he could ask Professor McGonagall when Dumbledore would come back. However, he doubted that she knew. Still, there was no harm in trying. Speaking of which…

"I nearly forgot," Harry said. "Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis—"

"_Professor_ Michaelis, Harry," Hermione automatically corrected.

"—went off to the Forest again last night," Harry finished.

The other two stared at him. "Again?" Ron said. "Yeesh, not even three days into term, and already Phantomhive's caused that much trouble."

"I dunno," Harry said. Really, what _were_ Ciel Phantomhive and Sebastian Michaelis up to? If, as Hermione put it, Sebastian was only 'checking up' on Ciel, why must they leave the castle premises? In fact, why go into the Forest? Or was Ron right, and had Ciel already earned himself a week's worth of punishment? A mental image of the stiff, uptight nobleman flashed through his mind, and he thought the second guess highly unlikely.

"Isn't that Peeves?" Hermione suddenly said.

Harry looked up. The corridor was nearly empty, except for the unmistakable sight of Peeves, who floated along the passage. Harry did a double-take. Peeves—there was no other word for it—looked _twitchy_, glancing around him, as though expecting attack. He wasn't even blowing on a raspberry, cackling, or holding something with which to pelt students with. If anything, Peeves looked both twitchy _and _frightened.

The sight of a _frightened_ Peeves was so disconcerting, that Harry stopped, and said, "Peeves—are you alright?"

Peeves jumped high into the air, letting out a gasp of surprise. "No, no, no, _shan't_ bother you again!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other. What had gotten into the poltergeist? "Er…Peeves?" Hermione said tentatively. "What…what happened?"

Peeves gave a nervous twitch, then blinked down at them. He blinked again, as though unsure of what he was seeing. "Why, it's wee Potty!" The jibe didn't have Peeves's usual flair of malice. He sounded defeated.

"I won't bother you again, your lordship!" Peeves said, as he zoomed away from them, muttering under his breath, and glancing nervously about him.

"What in the bloody hell was wrong with him?" Ron wondered aloud. "And why'd he call you 'your lordship', Harry?" Harry and Hermione—just as perplexed as he was—did not reply.

**. . .**

Ciel stared down at his bacon and toast, a heavy scowl on his face. If it were possible to skip breakfast, he would've done so already—he disliked the taste of ash. Unfortunately, Sebastian had told him to work on his appalling acting ("Young master, I'm surprised the other students haven't figured you out yet," the butler had said. "Humans are quite dim-witted, indeed.").

Huffing, he glanced about him. He was seated at the end of the table, away from the other students. Potter and his friends had yet to make their appearance. Perhaps Potter was sleeping in? Ciel smiled to himself. Remembering the way Potter had screamed in his sleep last night, Ciel could not blame him, if that were the case.

The earl glanced towards the High Table, where the teachers were having breakfast. Sebastian was having a rather animated conversation with Professor Sinistra (whose giggles, Ciel couldn't fail to hear, were those of a besotted schoolgirl).

Sebastian raised a forkful of egg to his mouth, and swallowed. Ciel frowned as he watched his butler. Sebastian made it seem so easy, the show-off. His red eyes suddenly snapped to Ciel's, and he grinned sardonically, tapping his fork pointedly to the corner of his mouth.

Ciel lowered his eyes to his plate, his scowl deepening. He raised the toast to his lips, and bit. He chewed, the toast immediately turning into ash as he swallowed. Disgusting.

"…seemed frightened out of his wits." Ciel looked up just as Potter and his friends walked towards the Gryffindor table.

"Yeah, but what could've frightened _Peeves?"_ Harry asked, as they walked up along the table.

"Dunno," Ron said as they sat, and immediately filled their plates with food. "Maybe he saw Filch in the shower, or something."

"That's disturbing," Harry said. "Think we should tell someone about Peeves?"

"Nah, let's leave him," Ron said. "Makes a great change, really, not having to dodge spit balls on our way to class. I'm sure he'll get over it, whatever it was."

"Well, _whatever it was_ managed to traumatize Peeves," Hermione argued. "It must've been really something horrible to terrorize a poltergeist, much less a poltergeist like Peeves. I think we should tell someone."

"Fine," Ron said, clearly not in the mood to argue with her.

Harry frowned as he looked down at his plate. _What_ could have happened to Peeves? The poltergeist was the master of chaos, nothing unnerved him, not even the basilisk attacks before…

He looked up. Seated down the table, across from him, Ciel Phantomhive was regarding him with a look of amusement. The nobleman gave him a sardonic smile and, for a moment, Harry expected that blue eye to flash to red. It didn't.

Harry returned Ciel's smile, albeit reluctantly. He couldn't help but notice that the boy was seated on his own again, a little way off from the other students. Hadn't he managed to make friends, or even acquaintances? Remembering the boy's waspish disposition, Harry thought this the most likely case.

Ciel averted his gaze from Potter, as he looked down at his plate. He felt both amused and petulant. Amused, because it seemed as though Potter and his friends had discovered Peeves (he would have loved to have seen their faces). Petulant, because of the unmistakable look of pity in Potter's bright green eyes.

Pity.

And what had brought that about? Was Potter wondering why he didn't eat breakfast with anyone? Was Potter wondering why he didn't have a single companion? He scoffed. Despite knowing that befriending Potter would help his contract with Dumbledore, Ciel found he did not wish to be friends—someone like him didn't _need_ friends…

"Earl Phantomhive!" an annoyingly bright voice said loudly.

Ciel flinched as several people turned to stare at him, Potter and his friends included. Ciel looked behind him. Dennis Creevey grinned down at him, beside a boy who could only be his older brother. The latter held a camera in his hands.

"This is my brother, Colin!" Dennis Creevey said excitedly. "I told him we were friends, and he was wondering if he could have a picture?"

"_Friends?"_ Ciel said, surprised at the boy's nerve. Colin Creevey held up the camera, excited. "No," Ciel snapped. "I don't want my picture taken, thanks."

"Oh, right, you're still eating," Dennis Creevey said, suddenly remembering his manners. "Maybe later, Earl Phantomhive, after Potions? See you around, then!"

And before Ciel could protest, the boys marched off. From the High Table, Ciel didn't fail to notice Sebastian leaning his chin against his hand as he regarded his master with an amused and mocking smile. That bastard.

Sebastian wasn't the only one. Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged surprised looks with one another. "So, they're friends with Dennis Creevey?" Ron asked.

"Seems that way," Harry said. Although, judging from Phantomhive's expression, Harry couldn't help but think that friendship was forged with both force and reluctance.

"Looks like your fan club's turned traitor on you, mate," Ron said, with mock sympathy in his voice. Harry threw his napkin at him.

"Kind of refreshing, actually, to have Colin's camera on someone else," Harry pointed out.

"Not too refreshing for him, though." Ron looked towards Ciel, who was scowling even more heavily as he ate his breakfast.

"I wonder why he prefers being alone all the time," Hermione mused. Neither Harry nor Ron replied—the scowl that Phantomhive wore was enough of an answer.

**. . .**

In Harry's opinion, Charms could not have gone fast enough. Professor Flitwick had introduced the Water-Making spell and had set them into pairs. Ron had had the misfortune of being paired with Malfoy. Professor Flitwick had to intervene no less than ten times to ensure that neither of them drowned from the jets of water their wands emitted.

By the time the bell had rung, Harry, Ron, and Hermione trudged out of the Charms classroom and towards the Defense classroom. Their robes—like everyone else's—were dripping with water. "One of these days, I'm going to drown Malfoy," Ron vowed, wringing the hem of his robe.

"I'd like to see you try, Weasel," a sneering voice behind them said.

They spun around to find Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle standing behind them. Crabbe and Goyle cracked their knuckles menacingly at Ron. "Bet that was the first time you've had any clean water to drink, wasn't it, Weasley?" sneered Malfoy, eyes glinting with malice.

Ron's hand immediately went to his wand, but before he could pull it out, Malfoy had his pointed at Ron's head. Harry automatically raised his own wand at Malfoy, while Hermione had hers trained on Crabbe and Goyle, whose wands were both fixed on Harry.

"Back off, Malfoy!" Harry snapped.

"You'd love that, wouldn't you, Potter?" Malfoy said softly. "Can't really do much, can they?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry said. Beside him, Ron's fingers twitched, as though he was itching to place them round Malfoy's neck.

"Your precious Order," Malfoy hissed venomously. Harry narrowed his eyes, his grip on his wand tightening.

"And what do we have here?"

They all jumped. Sebastian Michaelis was standing behind them, arms folded across his chest. "P-professor Michaelis!" Hermione stuttered, as they immediately lowered their wands.

"I believe the use of magic in the corridors was forbidden," Sebastian mused. "That will be…five points from Gryffindor, and ten points from Slytherin." He smiled deridingly at them.

"What?!" Malfoy exclaimed.

"You started it, I believe," Sebastian pointed out.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at one another and grinned. Malfoy's face flushed, and he threw the three of them looks of deepest loathing before storming past them towards the Defense classroom. Sebastian Michaelis whipped out his glasses, put them on, turned to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and said, "Off you go—I'm not overly fond of late arrivals."

**. . .**

By the time Harry, Ron, and Hermione had entered the classroom, most of the seats at the front had already been occupied—mostly by girls—and this left them to occupy the remaining seats at the back, much to Hermione's dismay ("We don't be able to hear a thing!" Hermione wailed, as Harry rolled his eyes).

The door to the room promptly opened, and Sebastian Michaelis strode in, his black robes billowing about him. "Good morning!" he greeted, as he stood in front of them. Several seats in front of him, Harry couldn't help but notice the glare Malfoy was sending their professor.

"As you may, or may not be aware, my name is Professor Sebastian Michaelis," Sebastian said, smiling at them.

"Oh, we're quite aware, all right," Parvati said, giggling. Even Millicent Bulstrode appeared flustered.

"I have been informed," Sebastian went on, pacing in front of them, "that you have had several teachers for this subject, all of whom undoubtedly taught you to the best of their capabilities—"

"_What_ capabilities?" Harry muttered, thinking of Lockhart.

"—but I will be teaching you rather differently," Sebastian concluded, clasping his hands behind him. He tilted his head, smiled, and said, "Wands away!"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione glanced at each other, worried, and they were not the only ones. Had Fred and George been joking about Sebastian's class? This was very reminiscent of _Umbridge_. Sebastian must have seen their expressions, because he suddenly called out, "Ms. Granger, is there a problem?"

Hermione's eyes widened, and she blushed. Harry gave her a kick beneath the table, and she cleared her throat. "Um…Professor…aren't we going to…to use magic?" she asked hesitantly.

Sebastian smirked, and Harry could have sworn all the girls melted into puddles at their feet. "Now, what gave you that impression?" Sebastian asked smoothly.

"But…you said wands away," Hermione said, rather breathlessly. Harry and Ron both rolled their eyes.

"Ah." Sebastian sounded amused. "Allow me to rephrase, then: Wands away, _for now."_

Hermione raised her hand again. "Yes, Ms. Granger?" Sebastian asked, red eyes fixed on her.

For an instant, just as instant, Harry couldn't help but think of how Sebastian, with his pale complexion, jet-black hair, and unusual red eyes, reminded him too much of a certain student who, like them, had undoubtedly sat in this classroom fifty years ago.

"Professor, I've been meaning to ask," Hermione went on. "Why wasn't a book assigned for this class?"

Sebastian grinned. "You won't be needing it," he said, much to everyone's awe. Hermione looked rather crestfallen, and Harry and Ron grinned at her. She glared at them.

"Now, then, where was I? Oh, yes," Sebastian continued. "For the first half of the school year, we shall be taking up the basic principles and the application of an esoteric form of magic, no longer in use today, but which, given the circumstances, will be most useful."

Everyone sat on the edge of their seats. This sounded rather promising. Even Harry, who was suspicious of both Ciel and Sebastian, waited with baited breath.

"We will be tackling," Sebastian went on, pointing his wand at the board, "an ancient form of magic known as _Venenatis Libero_." The words appeared on the board, and Sebastian smiled at them. "Now, does anyone have an inkling as to what this entails?"

Everyone automatically turned towards Hermione, but—to their immense surprise—she looked just as confused as the rest of them. "Anyone?" Sebastian asked, raising an eyebrow at the class. Hermione silently swore to finish off every book in the library before Christmas.

"Well, then," Sebastian said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "This form of magic was practiced by the first known users of magic during the ancient times, long before the Mesopotamians. It is, quite simply, wandless magic."

An interested murmur immediately rippled through the class. "Wandless magic?" Hermione mused to both Harry and Ron. "I've never even heard of it."

"Is it even possible?" Harry asked.

"Why, of course it is, Mr Potter," Sebastian said, amidst the murmurs from the class. Harry gave a small start of surprise. "Wands were not commonly used during ancient times, they were discovered much, much, later, as a means of easily channelling magic. As you all know, wands also serve to amplify a witch or wizard's magic, via its core. However, before the discovery of wands, the ancient wizards used their raw magic without channelling it through a medium."

"As if," Malfoy scoffed. Harry was quite certain—by the way his red eyes flashed—that Sebastian heard him, but chose to ignore the remark.

"Hm…" Sebastian went on, eyes scanning the class. "I can see that most of you are doubtful. Well, then…" His eyes landed on Neville, and he grinned (Harry couldn't help but think it was a rather feral sort of grin). "Stand, Mr Longbottom."

Neville twitched nervously as he stood. "Tell me," Sebastian said, as he sat on his desk and crossed his legs (it was to be noted that several girls were no longer paying attention to his _words_), "at what age were you able to first perform magic?"

"Um…" Neville began. "When I was about eight. My great uncle Algie accidentally dropped me from a window, Professor." Several people sniggered, and Sebastian raised his eyebrows pointedly at them. They immediately shut up, and Sebastian gestured for Neville to continue. "I fell, and bounced into the garden, and onto the road."

"And?" Sebastian prompted. "Did you notice anything rather peculiar?"

"Er…"

Harry immediately understood. He thought back to the times when he had been angry or desperate. Before discovering Hogwarts, he'd made a number of unusual things happen, from growing his hair back overnight, to accidentally releasing a boa constrictor at the zoo. As a wizard, he recalled being so angry with Aunt Marge, he'd unintentionally inflated her a like a balloon. And during all of those times, he hadn't had a wand.

Sebastian waited patiently for Neville to figure it out. "I didn't have a wand at the time, Professor," Neville said at last.

Sebastian smiled, and Neville quickly sat back down. "Just so," their Professor said, as he stood from his desk. "Each and every one of us is born with an inherent well of magic. This magic is usually used when a witch or wizard is under intense emotional distress. I say 'usually', because there are times when this magic cannot be tapped, no matter how enraged the witch or wizard is."

Beside Harry, Hermione was taking down notes, her quill nothing more than a blur as she wrote. "Which brings us back to our lesson," Sebastian said. "For a good portion of the year, I will teach you how to utilize this form of magic to perform simple, basic spells. Once you've grasped the basics, you are free to continue practicing the magic you know without a wand."

"Be warned—this form of magic is trying for most people, which is why it is rarely used. In fact, it can take weeks to perfect even a Levitation charm without a wand," Sebastian said. His red eyes snapped to Malfoy, who was busy whispering to Crabbe. "Observe."

The class watched, transfixed, as Sebastian fixed his red gaze on Malfoy's wand, which suddenly shot into the air. "What the—?!" Malfoy exclaimed, looking up at his wand. They watched as his wand slowly turned and pointed towards his forehead. Malfoy jerked back.

"You will pay attention in this class, Mr Malfoy," Sebastian said. Harry couldn't help but notice the rather menacing tone in his voice. "Five points from Slytherin." And with that, Malfoy's wand fell with a clatter to his desk.

The class clapped. Sebastian waved a hand for silence, and everyone immediately stopped. "That is another advantage of practicing _Venenatis Libero_," Sebastian said. "The spells involved must be nonverbal."

Harry and Ron glanced at each other, puzzled. "Is there anyone who can tell me what the advantages of nonverbal spells are?" Sebastian asked, and this time Hermione's hand shot into the air.

"As the incantations are mentally recited, this gives you a split-second advantage," Hermione said.

"Good, take five points for Gryffindor," Sebastian said, much to the Gryffindors' glee. It was safe to say, if the Slytherins had Snape, then the Gryffindors had Sebastian. Hermione sat down, her face glowing. Harry and Ron gave her flat looks, which she ignored.

"And thus," Sebastian went on. "If we are to tackle wandless magic, we must first take up nonverbal spells. Now, be warned—both topics are of the utmost difficulty, and require intense mental concentration and discipline." He pointed his wand at the board, and neat, elegant writing immediately filled it (no other teacher in living memory—not even Snape—had managed to give them so much to write in one class). "Take this down, all of you."

"Well," Harry said, looking at the amount of words on the board, and remembering Sebastian's words earlier, "this is going to be one hell of a school year."

**. . .**

**Author's Note:**

**Well, there you go. I'd like to thank everyone who read and reviewed, as well as those who placed this story on their favorites and alerts. Please, continue to review! : D**


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